what is it? | poem

poetry

as your days reach their thousands 
time warps the mind into believing 
peace nights belong only 
for the privileged. 
desires touch, 
lives among packs of wolves. 
in the absence of presence something is missing. 
tell me, what is it? 

as your days reach their thousands 
something in your life is lost 
like a boat in misty waters. among the common 
daily rituals of occupation,   
car keys hung on a hook
dust wiped from shelves  
back pain constant, as wind
gives a sense of missing. 
what is it? 

as your days reach their thousands 
you forget, moon wonderment 
yet obsess over the weight. 
responsibility you carry on your shoulders 
like a cross, enter a space of servitude 
call centre booth. counter with a till  
a hole you dug with labouring limbs.
the flash of memory, lightning sky,
but what is it? 

as your days reach their thousands 
a world full of dreams 
are sacrificed for obsession. 
until only the memory of something missing remains. 
what is left slowly wriggles away
returns to an earth, where flowers once sprung from dirt. 
earth ready for another soul
full of the unrestful, the unspoken.