Untethered Bliss
by Odin Roark

How easily the impatient settle for illusions,
clinging to its glittery lure,
its flighty moments of joy,
refusing to let go.

For such infatuate gratification,
there follows only disappointment,
adding to the nothingness of endless struggle,
of never seeing the kite of truth aloft,
as more dead air of misconceptions
stifle updrafts of risk and reward,
reducing hope to yet another desert mirage.

Learning beckons…

For like an exhausted zephyr seeking purchase,
love willingly bears the weight of infatuation’s fatigue,
knowing worthiness capable of overcoming capricious whims,
is destiny’s will,
its determination to outlast impetuous cravings.

Yet, caution advises…

Epiphanies guarantee neither privilege nor right,
for passion’s rising heat is likely to collide
with deception’s cold indifference,
sending thundering discontent
into clouds of combustible discharge,
spewing forth suffering’s overflow,
flooding inner feeling with torrential purge,
leaving behind more sorrow-soaked yesterdays,
debris-strewn heartscapes robbed of today,
but allowing tomorrow another chance to understand love,
that enfolding with life’s inner-embrace,
breath’s exhalation of arrival,
the transcendence into untethered bliss.