Saturday, February 18, 2012

Moving, That Which is Still

I am not still
there is movement
there is life and
potency behind
this exterior,
this trivial
seeming of lassitude

As lassitude seems
trivial against the
great, vast exterior
behind us, this movie
scene of false potency,
this analog of life
where there is movement,
a void of purpose
not much different
from being still,
the negation of any
state of being

Yet, we are beings,
the state of which
we negate with every
florid stillness,
no different than
the thousand generations
who took their
purpose to the void,
lives spent dancing fast
against the likeness
of doom, that potency
proven false by time,
flinging outward into
the vastness of the
great abyss, our
trivial malaise.

Patrick M. Tracy


Anonymous said...

Glad to see you back. You've been so busy lately that I'm surprised to see a new entry here, though. Even so, I alway look forward to reading your work. Thanks. M

S.L. Corsua said...

The first stanza hits home for me. I'm in a place where 'too much' can be 'less,' as in too much work can make less of a life, moreso a writer's life.

Hi, Patrick. Glad to read you again. I hope you are well.

Patrick M. Tracy said...


I agree with your comment 100%. Thanks for coming around. My poetry writing has been slow and sporadic of late, but I'll try to put a few up now and then. I can't seem to force poetry. It's there or it isn't.



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