Sifting through my hands
my soul’s golden dust fades away,
blown to the universe by ravaging hopelessness,
keeping my heart adrift
from my dreams aspirations.
Why? I ask.
Why has fate decided to play tricks on my goals
making me believe that I could fly?
When I am no more than a fogged-in mollusc vagrantly
drowning in one of the greatest expansions of greed
ever witnessed by mankind, since the genesis of
I feel tired from this daily rush,
trying to please the unpleased,
proving myself to the sceptic,
lighting the way to the ignorant.
I know what I want.
I don’t know how to get there.
Where’s my courage? Where’s my confidence?
I need my individuality back, so I can believe
that I can do it … that I can succeed.
Photo courtesy of Catherine Malone, Lancashire, UK.