Perspective -
we all lack it,
thinking we will live forever,
thinking our thoughts this moment,
are concrete,
unwavering.
Researching my family tree,
I see those from the Rhineland,
from Holland,
from Normandy,
from England,
from Wales,
from Scotland,
from Ireland -
going further
further
back -
those from Denmark,
those from now Spain
and Portugal.
All of these people,
connected to me,
with lives of their own,
lives I will never know,
but upon which,
I depend.
That hidden web,
revealing,
revealing,
the illusion
of independence,
the illusion,
of self-sufficiency.
Looking around me,
I read of so many
from my childhood,
already dead,
in prison,
or perhaps
worse.
Our views
of ourselves
of our lives
illusions -
perhaps
created by ourselves,
or pushed onto us,
by others,
but
always
illusions.
The only thing real
is
this very moment.
Each moment,
you are
someone
new.
Unbound
by
illusions
of
the past.
Someone once told me,
poetry
should not be
didactic.
Fuck that.
Live now.
Lee Sturgis