The Heist

I’m part of a timeless heist for happiness as

My body breaks and becomes beaten;

My mind is made maleficent and morose;

My spirit is censored and somber

I question the paradigm of all conscious thought

And am ever searching for the entity who may calm

The storm. The one who stays afloat amidst the flood—

I’m drowning, and desperate and clinging to the remnants

Of a previous version of myself. I am chasing external stimuli

While hoping that is where true happiness lies.

Loneliness is a bitter beast he torments me, and tears

Me apart—he snickers as my childish views

As I coddle the wounds beneath my flesh.

The nirvana I seek is fluid, and never with my grasp;

And I am aware, vaguely, that my mindset is all wrong.

The absence of evil is not altruistic desire, and

A happy life is not deserved based on innate merit

And cannot be captured, netted, or enclosed.

In the senseless quest for knowledge, the tribulations

Of my lack of faith are final; the feelings of drifting

May last forever—I squander gifts I’ve been given.

      DannYetman

www/yetmanpoetry.blogspot.com