For Boredom
I’ve been thinking an awful lot
about this boredom I’ve long fought,
and it came to my mind
that I used to run outside,
but now I’m stuck in one spot.
Oh, it was such a tragic thought
to think about what I have not,
but something much worse
seemed to soon curse
my poor sad attention to rot.
So I gained boredom’s tragic grip
in exchange for my daily trip.
Though not all is bad
and I’m not quite sad
I’d still at least like to go for a dip.
Empty skies falling slowly,
far down the coast
they’ve floated - faltered.
Encased in perpetual motion,
their temperament as shifting
as the water and air within.
They are only less human
because they are closer to
the light we want desperately
against our pained skin,
because they are kept
under rule happily by
the wind and will of something
greater than we know.
The empty sky takes in
the thunder and the gales,
the quick licks of the sea
and the grace of the birds.
All take sanctuary
among the eternity
of cerulean majesty.
The sun gives its blessings -
and the sky gains
rubies, amber, and gold,
to sling against
the slightest gaze.
And I’m sitting here,
not knowing if
I will ever
know one thing
or another
because the answers
are never as apparent.
