a leaky roof:
a man weighs patching it
against worrying
POEM: Leaky Roof [PoMo Day 22 – Senryū]
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There's a block of gloomy darkness beyond the gray yonder. Since I can't see what's sitting there, I can't help but ponder whether there's solid ground upon which a guy could wander. Or would one fall into a void - a life forthwith squandered. Who can know if they don't ever go, but leave it to the guessing? No staked claims or stated aims, I find the mystery distressing. I listen to the stories, but can't sup what they're expressing, I know they've never been there either, and it's creed they're professing. So I'll start in that direction, moving slowly as I go, and if I should fall before the wall, I'll bear that I can't know.
In the lunatic asylum, it's quiet after the meds round. R's mind was in the madhouse, but his body was in a lifeboat, or maybe vice versa, he couldn't tell for sure. He only knew that he was floating, and, sometimes, it was too choppy, and if life got too happy, he felt that it was fake. The open sea 's a harsh place, but no worse than the where he carried everywhere he ventured inside his dense brainpan. A fatal, futile option was selected with a button that may -- or may not -- have resided within his very soul. So thirsty and so lonely -- side-effects of something. It might have been the meds, or, perhaps, the salty air. He chose to think he wasn't bounded by a nutshell; though his brand of crazy was quiet before the storm. One day his kidneys gave out. Who could've ever imagined that such a thing could happen in such a place as that.
I am not the fallen, but the falling -- he who never hit the ground. And you may hope to know my call, but I was never there at all. I was sitting on the tower. I was dropping to the ground. I never emitted a flash of light, and never emitted a peep of sound. I am the falling, not the fallen. The one who never hit the ground.
In isolation, I took to story, and traipsed through worlds impossible yet true, living life from infantile thru hoary, under skies: gunmetal to deepest blue, in lands where trucks were known to be lorries, and ancient cities breathed as though brand new. Where neither time nor bars could imprison, I found my phoenix had now arisen.
I roam the old city, gazing at Gothic gargoyles and touching stonework made by men long since dead, wondering how I ended up in this chunk of time, rather than one in which this land was all just forest or marshland, or one in which we all wait amid the rubble to blast off to some secondary hive of humanity.