The Pendulum


Eyes flutter open.
The pendulum remains still.
I absorb the ambience around me;
The view from the top of the hill.

Experience. Feel. Comprehend.
The pendulum shifts to the right.

I mimic life’s routine
As the morning comes and goes.
My soul seeks the future;
A matter nobody truly knows.

Plan. Dream. Wonder.
The pendulum pauses, and swings to the left.

In a mere instant
I am lower than low.
There is no outlet to express,
No grasp of a steady flow.

Decompress. Reflect. Breathe.
The pendulum soars to the right; much faster now.

In the midst of a panic
My essence is overcome
By an overwhelming safety
Bringing to life what is numb.

Release. Ease. Carry on.
The pendulum has swayed again.

I am left to myself;
A dangerous state.
My euphoria melts
And hardens into a familiar weight.

Assume. Panic. Collapse.
I cannot see the pendulum.

Just as the blades of a windmill 
Merge into an eternal ring
The pendulum’s motions are blurred.
Inevitable: after the mere first swing.

Suddenly, all goes numb
As the demanding day ends.
The pendulum finally slows
After hours of wondering “when?”

Even as I close my eyes
I cannot pinpoint what I desire to find.
Because I have lost sight of a reality
That exists beyond my mind.

Linger. Persist. Endure.
The pendulum halts.

cari.bruno567

PA

YWP Alumni

More by cari.bruno567

  • Subjectivity

    The world is nothing but a monstrous sea of grey. To reside in black and white, as I once did, is to numb the human experience and resist the inevitable questioning of belief. 
     
  • When The Sky Cries

    The Earth sluggishly arises from sleep, and the sky is crying this morning. She is giving herself to the nature below that is groaning in need. She pours her energy over the fields and forests, emptying herself for their provision.