Cycles


Patterns repeating year in and out
Peeps living busy lives to keep out of it
Living by the day, by the moment.
Yet still caught in that rhythm and cycle.

Cycles come and go
What once was, on this side of the court
Now I'm on the other, looking back.
Feeling a weird sense of nostalgia.

A search within ourselves,
so 'they' say with much confidence.
Yet the cycle continues, endlessly
As skepticism sets in.


Have we really questioned 'why' deep enough,
Or just giving in and sliding down,
Down these slippery walls of self despair,
Finding comfort in the murky state.


But there's more within the muddy waters,
Chances to complain of life's injustice.
When all that's done is a refusal to get up.
Like mould growing, rotting slowly.


From skepticism to disbelief,
We are creatures to listen to those we trust,
Yet they are also down with us unable to climb up
Is it that hard to look up and reach out?


If by ourselves we're so great,
We'd be able to pick ourselves up and out.
Yet the cycle gets longer every time,
And so in delusion we live on.


Is it so hard to believe that we need help?
We know that we do,
But pride gets in the way, it always does.
Until the day we're left with nothing, will we cry out.


Are we too blind to even see,
That when things don't change.
Perhaps the steps taken could be wrong,
Will pride keep us from changing course?


Perhaps Perhaps...
We lack a mirror,to see even...
The subtle beast within,
That closes up even our hearts.