CF08 Isolation is Relative

 

Life on this island is perilous.

Just to be seen as such.

No other reason.

Are you looking at me now?

 

Poetry aimed at some person or emotion or habit or thing the poet is unwilling to confront directly. It would change nothing, causing only harm and disharmony. I have learned rather to be thankful for the gift that is my experience. The Robinson Crusoe suggests, from his island of relative paradise, to “compare their condition with those that are worse, in order to be thankful, rather than always comparing with those that are better.” That same theme, love what you have. Happy people do this.

 

I am Robinson Crusoe.

France is my myopic island.

Some quandary.

 

The little waves on the lake are in great haste when observed to the north.

The same waves are calm when looking to the west.

They are the same ripples set in haste by the same wind.

 

Ardent wishes and strong ideas build a hankering for companionship.

 

Age ebbs with merriment and sport.

 

The size of the new age movement is driven by an urgent quest to remain ignorant and blissful.

It is a movement of non-action.

Words.