Too Busy

Too busy with the ordinary,
time-consuming tasks of everyday;
keeping up with all that others
say you ought to do,
while deep inside, a feeling builds
insisting you be true to only you.

But the pressure is on,
somehow even greater than before,
demanding that you prove yourself
to be just what those others think
you really ought to be;
even as your spirit
screams itself to sleep
that never seems to bring
a feel of rest at all.

This inner battle rouses
an uncompromising attitude,
that seeds such moods of discontent,
you cannot seem to focus on one thing;
for destiny at last begins insisting,
that all of us attend its mighty feel.
As all thatís real demands just now
an open field that can reveal the truth.
And this truth is extraordinary;
seeking to become our everyday,
even as the night unfolds the tale
hidden in the mists of all that light
refuses to admit.

Just then, the stars and moon
come back again to play a mystery
upon their harps of synchronicity,
whispering within the inner ear
of all the love we hold so dear
yet never quite come to express
within the  light of day.

Too busy with the ordinary,
time-consuming, deadened tasks,
of what the populous has come
to name reality . . .

? Michaelette ?

2/15/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .