Spontaneous Works of an Endless Dreamer (Poetry)

Realistic Lessons of the Pessimistic Optimists

Nobody does watch you,

nobody does see,

as you make your move to flee,

From a different perspective

do the shadows see,

For they are always free,

that invisible somebody perched

in a tree.

~

Of course you should stay,

so they say,

but their motives really in a fray,

For they themselves have another way,

for they shall just fly away anyway,

and do as they may,

Yet they say,

to save that thought

for another day.

~

Such beautiful, softness to their feathers,

every move deadly accurate and sure,

Camouflaged, precise, concise,

of course they don't care

that everything comes with a price.

They've already long accounted

for that.

Razor swift talons,

against a blatant sword of a bitter, harsh, array of words,

So many wounds both of which have inflicted.

~

Aerial vision,

in such foggy vastness,

yet crystally clear,

still depicted.

The sharp air of ice and needles

through which they carefully glide,

inevitably pick sides, collide, confide,

against the warm blanket of dizzy wind that they're free to ride.

~

To which you'll wonder once again, how it's possible to ask one to stay,

when you, yourself, are free to fly away.

But a given, they of course insist,

so you make a list, of what you missed,

Only to be crumpled up angrily within your fist,

For once, you really can't quite decide

whether their fluffy feathers that make them look half as sly,

or whether they're made of silk, sand, or silt.

And as goes that cocky look,

appearing ever so obviously in your eyes,

Replaced by surprise, their smugness melting your hard earned confidence,

Their insight, only giving you spite,

But then again one must ask,

if this, and these silly thoughts, are really,

necessary or right.

For one really cannot be angered with an owl,

for simply acting within its nature.

~

So, like that of an owl

will my eyes deceive

what I believe. 

'Look at it, in a different way,

they suggest,

search for the perspective 

and thoughts,

you fail to see,'

the owl then explains to me.

They help me remove 

rose coloured glasses,

and for the first time,

in a long time,

I see,

a glimpse of

raw reality.

The question is,

is reality,

really what 

I wish,

to see?

~

Or rather

shall I follow the wisdom, 

of a

clever owl?

For deep at soul,

it was always,

admiration,

and observation

hidden beneath layers,

of analysis.