The Web

Nearsighted hunchbacks dimly pass the time

Watching the victories and failures of

Liquid crystal denizens. Watching all

Across the meaningless distances spanned

By gold filaments and fiber optics.

Distances are eliminated while

Voids greater and lasting fill their spaces.

The crisscrossing wires wrap around the globe

And trap the earthbound daughters and sons of

Spiders who spun too much web to escape.

As if leaving was on their minds – eyes

That cannot see through flimsy manmade screens

Cannot dream of higher and further things.

So hunching to their screens they keep their watch

As all around them the void thickens in

Its emptiness. Rampant webs of  purblind

Spinners indiscriminately catch prey.

Whether bright-eyed youth or graying matrons,

Intellectual or professional,

All the quick will become mere spectators

Within the spreading demon-weave dragnets.

The quick and the dead will be difficult

To distinguish in the encompassing

Torpor. “As it should be!” says our fey foe,

“For my victory is achieved when great

And small children of men do naught but lie.”

Across the Strait

I begin to see the raindrops

In the distance.

I can’t hear the pitter-patter

Or feel the soaking dripping cold

Of the remote pouring.

I’m in the warm sunlight

Watching rain across the waters.

This strait—

Seeming a gulf—

Between

Places;

Here and there

People;

I and you

Cultures;

Us and them

Rends

Perceptions from reality

Scattering the truth like raindrops

In the distance.

Ambivalence on the Heath

(I wrote this last year. It is about the times when you do what is comfortable and easy instead of what you know to be right; and it's about getting past those times.)

When dark the paths of evening grow

And pale the light remains

The lands lay still apart from crows

Their hollow calls disdain

Those watchers and those walkers still

Upon the roads below

Who fight and strive to go at will

Beyond the heath plateau.

And I amongst those strivers stay;

A shadow in the moors,

Lonely wandering from the way

To open secret doors.

I find within a comfort spot;

A place to rest my head

And there I stay - it seems my lot

To rest until I'm dead.

It's safer here beneath this roof

Than walking the long road

And maybe I will see some proof

That lifts my heavy load.

Until that day I'll rest and wait

As my short time grows dim

And in me grows a rising hate

For life upon the rim.

The rim of all that it should be;

Of pain and struggles more.

I've settled for a tiny fee.

I'm all that I abhor.

And when the loathing grows too much

I'll set out once again

Before I turn a wraith; no touch

Will warm this hollow man.

And on the path once more I'll see

The struggles and survive.

I'll learn that it takes more for me

To feel and act alive.

As I do march through this long night,

By light of guiding Star,

I slowly see dawn's pale new light

Now glowing from afar.

From there, beyond the fresh green lands,

I see the shining sea

The sun does rise with open hands

And warmly welcomes me. 

Are they so pretty?

The gleam upon the resplendent façades

Strikes the surface of the waters

And then is cast back

Upon their gargantuan sides

Like a childish game of keep-away

Those solemn obelisks look down condescendingly

On two bedroom homes

And squat industries at their feet

They shine in the sun like Kings frozen in their splendor

Children saunter among their roots

Like ants among the redwoods

The city noise is dull and subdued

As it sighs under the summer sun

The homeless seek the shelter of pillared shade

While the affluent seek air-conditioned cabs

Two classes

One climbing up the monstrous spires

By stepping on the faces of the others

Then the silence is cut

A gong smashed at the feet of the steel and glass idols

The children run

And the buildings begin to fall like dominos

While the perfidious illusion is broken

The Average Man

So I know this guy and he is average. I mean he is the epitome of the word average. He isn't bad, he isn't good. He is forgettable, and regrettably, normal. He is about 25 or somewhere around there. This is what this guy does: He works for a temp agency at a poster factory or something along those lines. He works there for 8 hours a day making less than I do at my summer job. He comes home (to his parent's home) and he eats and plays World of Warcraft.

Now that's not all this guy does. Like I said; hes average not bad. He goes to church, he volunteers, he lives an unremarkable existence. Now I don't know why this bothers me so much but it does. He has no drive, no goals in life, and no problem with that. When I ask him about it he says he's comfortable where he is at. 'Yeah, I'd be comfortable if I still lived at home with my Mom cooking me meals,' is what immediately comes to mind. Seriously though? Where will he be in 5 or 10 years? Still working for a temp agency? Still living at home? Yeah, It might be comfortable but that's not a good thing.

People seem to think that all they desire in life is comfort and that it creates happiness but that's wrong. That's false; comfort will only take you so far. Look at many of the Hollywood celebrities and sports celebrities: They have all the means to make their life as comfortable as possible. Yet many of them crash and burn or fizzle out. You know why? Because people don't just want a sense of comfort, they want something more than that; they want purpose.

My friend may be comfortable but what is his purpose? Is he useful, helpful, loved, loving? Where is he going? Where has he been? I can answer those last two: not far. The only way a person can progress, learn, love, understand, communicate is to leave your comfort zone at some point.

So yeah friend, you are comfortable at home and you are making your small differences in society; your little purpose. But what purpose is out there waiting for you to take it? What chances are you missing out on by staying at home and doing what is comfortable. Leave the country, leave your province, leave your city and for God's sake leave your comfort zone.

- F.L.