To the Grander Things in Life

Everyday

I try

to smell those roses 

 

large and small

 

apparent and hidden

 

against those who whine to march onwards

towards Babel's tower

         

               

                   __]

              __]       

         __]

     __]

__]

 

And the truth is

after I smell

I will 

too

follow them

 

up towards that tower

towards accomplishment and ambition and drive and 'success'

 

sure the flowers are nice

but I can't stay there forever

nor do I want to 

 

would the flowers lose their luster?

are flowers the only joy in my life?

 

I'm not sure yet. 

And I'm not sure if I'll ever be. 

I'm just unsure.

 

And in a way being unsure makes life

a little bit more mysterious

a bit more interesting

 

it's true colors will never appear for me

but I'm not blind to the limited flashes I do see.

 

In my limitations there is beauty. 

In the coverage of black...

are the strokes of right...

and that makes life awesome.

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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