The first poetic cycle I ever wrote was entitled "Control" and was written in the Spring of 1995, mere months before I launched the first cycles to a cat of some sort or another.
Here's a re-evaluation of the theme.
control, part II
I don't want control of the weather
or your heart.
just truth.
for control is an illusion,
as sometimes truth is,
but on the off chance that
the truth is true,
you can build on it,
whatever misshapen wall
of spittle and wood you wish.
but with control,
you are damned from the start
as the human heart
has its own steering wheel
and just when you feel
the road is straight and clear
you will find yourself in the badlands,
blaming others
for your own gullibility.
control is a sucker bet,
wet with the sweat of those
who thought there was balance
in the universe,
to be received.
William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
control, part II
Labels: 2008 3 observations
3 observations:
Truth, like fireflies, is hard to catch.
Ah, but the female firefly seems to have little trouble attracting a mate. Perhaps she is unsubtle, flashing her tail light like that?
Yes, we all have fragments, pieces, slivers of truth. But the longer I live the more I realize that those who are the most strident in their truths are usually missing large portions of the panorama.
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