Another Past Poem.

I wrote this back when I was spending way too much time on the internet in chat rooms.

 

I DIDN’T ASK FOR THIS

I didn’t want this in my life,

this glowing siren that takes my days

and haunts my nights.

Taking me places I never wanted to go

along with those I did.

It draws my eyes and fingers and mind

into vortices of time and space.

Hallways and rooms that don’t exist.

Memories of an absent mind.

Who do I meet there,

passing the time in text and speech?

Countless souls lost in a limbo

more dreadful than any Dante could see

in his fevered dreams.

All of the lost, wandering, searching for hope.

What hope?

Hope they know nothing of,

a thing they can’t identify

except to know it’s absence.

Love, or understanding, or acceptance.

Missing pieces in their ever-shifting puzzle.

Constantly morphing from shape to shape.

This, or that, or him, or her.

Is it you? Will you love me?

Or cast me aside?

Am I your piece?

Are you mine?

Can we possibly be each other’s

piece, and peace?

How can we know

if words are lies?

Even the ones that are true?

Especially the true?

I hope

I trust

I love

Perhaps I lose.

W. C. Seward

1999