Tiptoed on the head of a pin
To see the universe for all it is
I’ve no focus and no boundaries,
Nothing to hold me from a fall,
Nothing to hold out the deepest chills,
And nothing to hold out hope for long.
I unwind the dots one by one,
Each time needing to find another
To keep me bound and sane.
When one light goes out,
I stumble though the sun
In search of another, not just any flame.
I suck it all in, and it just grows brighter,
The ember that burns me on like a whip.
I will never find respite
In a single degree;
In a single channel;
In a single group;
In any home.
No place for one whom
Explores creation.
No thought for one whom
Contemplates creation.
Is it so wrong to
Want to see the
Beauty in everything?
Will anyone else walk this road with me?
To not consecrate yourself to one cause?
Why is there no freeform world for me to meet people in, to speak of everything unfettered and just learn and think and be creative? Why must they all be based on something so specific as to limit the immensity that is the unleashed, undiscriminating mind?
. . . Where is the chaos?