Sanity’s Layered Disturbances

THE DISTANT PAST

Rely not on this consideration,
this disturbance,
a clash of confronting wills
moving with the flow,
even as options beg attention,

a sense of indecision
like the clouds
of one’s ether
rise in convergent discovery.

Opposites…

Yin and yang,
hot and cold,
struggle against

The struggle of sanity.

Just as clouds might burst
so too the boiling kettle
may spew its residual,
the whistle warning,
like lightning afar,
eruption may be near.

Disturbance…

Nature, ever playful,
welcomes unpredictable patterns of behavior
for it to know,
for us to explore.

YESTERDAY

Disturbance awaited the morning dawn,

for just as Nature reinvents itself continually,
so too the human mind plays upon one’s own cycle

as patterns connect,
dismantle,
find new tributaries,
all for the quest to
accept,
understand,
or
perhaps remain anesthetized.

Oh, to sleep
to escape incessant profundity of reason
while crickets voice
a lull for the void.

Yet…

Struggle we must
to vanquish this nightmarish noise,
allow angelic melody its rightful time,
stifle echoes unbridled breath
 deep in the purified air of repose.

But sleep is deprived,
as restless racket abounds
in one’s solipsistic quicksand,
forever remaining the glue
solvents of truth
struggle to dissolve.

A morning’s sunlight
breaks curtained exile,
crickets sleep,
alarm bells beckon,
our program responds.

TODAY

Disturbance awaits its awakening.

as actions once more warrant thought.
This voice,
now loud at the dog,
next screeching at traffic,
followed by outbursts on fellow workers.

We speak loud,
often nonsense,
sometimes warnings,
other times acquiescence,

anything to escape.

Just as some would believe
Freud’s id cares not of
ego’s comfort,
while ego patronizes or
accepts super ego’s moral compass,

so too others see their vessels freely afloat,
anchored not by theory once heavy,
but by taking rarified readings
attached to precarious acceptance,
trusting instinct as Nature’s pure logic.

Yes,
Freud thought he had
the answer,
but alas
in such a world
das es
thinks little of
das ich
and das über-ich
seldom is awakened.

TOMORROW

Disturbance awaits,

to either conquer
or surrender all
for a contemporary time
where absent
morals,
ethics,
and simple decency,
our narcissist-smothered superego
 hangs by tenuous, yet principled strands.

But fail
it cannot,
for while
id forever massages
our mulish ego,
superego continues weaving the
tapestry of reason and conscience,

Waiting

And

Trusting the unknown.