I have never cared for the humanity of puzzles
The fit and finish of inspired conspiracy
Or the welding of perfection
From the whole of scattered bits.
To find the order from parts seems one thing,
When found in aimless walks
Alone, with a mind of geared stupidity.
To dream it another,
A lesser thing, found loose and unproven
In a thoughtful cloud of wished expectation,
If heaven is perfect,
What train do we wait for;
In what station do we wait?
As we sit and plan death slowly
And find ourselves a place in ordered growth.
Until, confused, we walk into the dark alone
And leave our bones glowing pale in the tailings of a mountain
In a sunlight, reflected by the moon.
I sit in lost opportunity
Lost in order to distract
With the complaint of being lost
To people I don’t care for.
And in this I make myself human
And bind myself to others on the wheel.
I have played the puzzle
Of both the how and when,
In tires for my car, or styles for my body,
Always knowing that I was living life
sideways, to avoid looking ahead to the end.
In fear that I would become lost again
To run free in the terrors of a German forest.
Mike Brady 2010