The Human Condition

Even though people are here, they are not really here. And yes, I mean me too. There are so many

distractions,

consistently.

Billboard,

License plate,

Keep Out: Private Property.

Signs everywhere and nowhere...

Spirit couldn't possibly get through.

Junk built up over lifetimes

at the expense of you.

You don't have it the worst,

but it's bad enough to cry.

Stuck in city life,

Longing to escape.

Even when I go into nature now,

I take with me my strife.

And there's too much of it so I sit here

for hours waiting for it to dissipate.

Because that's how long it takes

for the brain to process

the copious amounts of intake.

It's too much, it's too much,

flashing through in auditory waves.

So much noise, so little space.

Filled up with all the wrong things

just like before.

What is the answer?

I dream of growing my own food,

Our food.

A garden of flowers for the children to pick,

Intimate animal relationships.

Sunshine is the center of this life,

we rise with it,

and fall into the night.

Oh so sweetly,

Oh so carefully.

The stars shine so bright,

Out where there are no street lights!

I know you've thought about it too...

So what is keeping you?

What has you all tied up?

(so tightly that you cannot breathe)

(so stuck that you cannot leave)

(so tempting that you always go back)

The human condition,

is going to give me a heart attack.