Curious Eclipse
Brett St. Pierre
There seems to be this insatiable
Need to speak endlessly of substance-
That there needs to be more of it
And more on the surface for us to steal;
That we demand to be handed everything
Even if it wasn’t built for instant liberation.
Sometimes I wonder if we discuss
The idea mainly as an effort to redefine and ignore
That which we can no longer understand;
If we’ve become so internally stagnant
That we demand that we are forced to
Live vicariously through only those that
Refuse to let us search-
And only if they refuse to allow us anything
That resembles true life:
With apathy strewn across the beginning and the end;
With nothing but a shadow of a purpose sought through details;
With nothing ever of ourselves to admit
That we were never truly involved-
And with everything in between built only of bullets and rules-
We search for our own themes and meanings
Without being told to.
It had once been what had made us real,
(This incessant need to taste what we cannot touch),
But now- even that is gone.
Taken from us by something we are not even sure we want to identify.
