No Turning

After many years of intermittent insanity,

anxiety and depression, everything spun

out of control and I came to wander

in the wilderness of psychosis, where

I saw delusional visions of a sane oasis,

but I did not conquer my demons,

and when I struck rock bottom,

no water flowed.

The world turns and changes,

but I do not hope to turn again.

No water flowed, and no wine flowed,

and I forgot who had how many

prodigal talents to be denied,

in age, my age, the ages of the rocks,

the forgetfulness that comes with age–

and you were my rock once,

but you rolled away,

gathering no moss.

The world turns and changes,

but I do not hope to turn again.

And I have not forgotten my talents,

nor do I have the heart to cut

a tree, even the fruitless fig,

but the volume of my trumpets

cannot fell the walls,

regardless of what raised them;

my song plays softer,

and the rabble overwhelms it.

The world turns and changes,

but I do not hope to turn again.

There is no infinity like

the finity of dreams.,

and yet, we go on,

visionless, we go on,

doubting our belief,

questioning its relevance,

but too fearful

to relinquish it.

The world turns and changes,

but I do not hope to turn again.

Until the cataclysm, the earth

will rotate and orbit its destruction,

and I will soldier on,

thought it’s too late to change;

the world will turn,

but I cannot,

being from where

I am destined to be.

The world turns and changes,

but I do not hope to turn again.

On the dance floor at the concert,

I move to the music,

gyrate and sway,

but I do it in one spot.

 

Copyright 2017

T. Allen Culpepper

 

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4 thoughts on “No Turning

  1. This one I have read and reread. It speaks to me. I think it is one of your best.

    Sent from Mail for Windows 10

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