Disappointment

Some days I just wait and wander with no feeling. It is as if the people, the work, the life I know, nothing really touches me. I worry at the emptiness and disconnectedness of it. 
I could create something, a painting, a poem, a reflection as I am doing now, but I have no desire to.  There is just a haunting emptiness at the edge of new beginnings, old stories. 

I speak, I communicate, but I am simply tired, disengaged. An overwhelming weight drags me down as I wake up day after day with the weight of the dead. 

There are no big issues, no great problems and yet something just slowly crunches me, a shattering sense of disappointment. It is just one more feeling amidst many others. Perhaps it will go away in time, perhaps it will be in residence for a while. 

Some days I just wait and wander, with no memories that drag me down, and yet feeling the weight of the dead.

I know this tiredness. It is not new. I wait for it to pass. 

The simple yet tragic weight of human life, its fullness and its emptiness, the vast interconnectedness that we are no more aware of, the mindless greed coupled with the ignorant simple desire to grow, the active need to be part of a change, the lost voice of an unheard struggle, the poetry of a being on the threshold of anger forever dissolving into pain or perhaps the other way round. 

I know this tiredness. It is not new. I wait for it to pass. 

The physical body withers, the mind shatters
The soul wanders aimlessly, intuition cages itself
The energies dissipate in chaos, identity disengages
The mask of the familiar face, the known form stays on...

I know this tiredness. It is not new. I wait for it to pass.