Passionate Stones

Passion and Emotion is such a fleeting thing
As a gentle summer breeze floats over the flower fields
So too goes the strong, human passion.
Behold are we but concrete statues.
Sitting behind desk, toiling our worries for the next paycheck.
Sleeping students on park benches, Minds weary and dry.
Our feet are sewn to a conveyor
Through the factory of mediocrity;
Very few find the knife to cut the threads
Only to tumble down into an abyss of impoverished existence.
While the rest of us solidify in our desks,
The gentle, summer’s breeze thrives in those found in the abyss. Though.
Cold eyes gaze on the performance:
Vibrant streaks of color ripping through canvas
Angry notes hammer on ears
And fires burn through what may have been love.

Yet such cold, weary, and dry minds return to ignorance.
That performance was merely a sham
A way to scam us out of our most valued currency
Time
Time which must be spent on the clock;
Never on a pen, brush, or tune

Miserable
Bleak
Angry
Content
Dispassionate
Fretting
Nail-biting
Hair-ripping
Rage demanding
Melancholy commanding
So do we all feel these things
So do we all yearn a release
We look to the norm:
How do we let go of these things?
While also following the economic doctrine
Of paying time to the company.
Contain
Bottle
Shelve
Drown
Save
Bury

When the abyss walkers wonder
Why are we so…
Flustered
Twitchy
Stressed
We answer with
Release
Breaking
Opening
Breathing
Spending
And digging
After, we all feel, for but a moment
Relieved
Bright
Joyous
Luxurious
Fiery
Mended
Calm
And happy

Yet forever in ignorance, we the concrete, accept our new form as dust
Joining the gentle summer’s breeze in passion
Until we grow too heavy for the wind to carry us,
And so we collect into new statues
And say ‘amen’
And the Abyss walkers
Will be forever praised as our idols
Our heroes
The example
The ideal
And They will forever wonder:
Do we ever learn?

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/84j363/my_memories_sear_like_a_flame/dvqc4q9/

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/84jntw/the_thought_of_it/dvqc16e/