Pensive Ponderings

Reflections on things that matter.

The Tip: Part 1. A Poem

The Tip graphic

On days like today I just couldn’t care less.

I just sit in my bed, not bothering to dress.

Just vaguely aware that my house is a mess…

From all of the symptoms it seems I’m “depressed.”

 

The question is “why.”

 

Why, when I have everything my comfort requires

Do i not know how to meet my soul’s deep desires?

Why, when I have all I need to survive

Am I never able to feel like I’m alive?

 

What is “alive”?

What is a “life”?

And what is the point, like the tip of a knife?

 

I realize how morbid my thoughts have become.

I shouldn’t feel like this. This feeling is dumb.

Maybe I’m just bored with my life

But dull boredom’s become sharp, like the tip of that knife

A stabbing pain in the back of my mind

In the pit of my soul

There’s a bloody deep hole.

My thoughts are all spinning right out of control!

 

STOP!

 

[Breath]

 

Turn on the TV, the music, the news!

Anything to chase away these blues.

I’ll watch a good movie, or binge watch a show

Perhaps Dare Devil. Maybe Naruto.

But 5 hours later, when Netflix is dull,

That question starts bouncing around in my skull.

 

The question is “why”?

 

Why, when I have life and all that it brings,

Do I find that my life is not satisfying?

Why do i spend weeks days, and hours

Entranced by program, my own mind devoured?

Why is my life’s story still on the shelf?

Why have I spent my life hating myself?

 

What is “alive”?

And what is a life?

And what is the point, like the tip of that knife?

 

The morbid thoughts are back again.

They’re in my head, I can’t pretend.

My boring old life

Is filled with strive

Over lack of a point, like the tip of that knife.

…the tip of that knife…the tip of that knife!

Why am I back to the tip of that knife?

What is the point? Where is the point?

And what if the answer is “there is no point”?

 

STOP STOP STOP!

 

[Breath]

 

Just get out of bed

No matter the time, my feet need to tread.

I hop on the machine, though I’m full aware,

That no matter the speed, I’m going nowhere.

 

Breath in [left right]

Breath out [left right]

There’s no [left right]

Way out [left right]

 

Breath in [left right]

Breath out [left right]

What’s life [left right]

About? [left right]

 

Why Why Why?

 

Why can’t I escape this question?

Why is my mind flowing in this direction?

 

What is “alive”?

What is “a life”?

What is the point, like the tip of that knife?

I feel like my life’s at the tip of that knife!

Tonight, I might be at the tip of my life!

 

I’ve come to the point, to the tip of that knife.

Now I’m on the razor’s edge of death and life.

I can’t drown it out or send it away.

I can’t obscure it with a high-def display.

The question that echoes in the depths of my soul

Is a painful reminder that i’m far from whole.

 

Why do I feel so hollow inside?

Why is it hard for me to sleep at night?

Why am I always on the verge of distress?

Why are my only modes “bored, anxious, and depressed?”

 

What is a life?

Why am I alive?

How do I move from “exist” to “thrive?

What is “alive”?

What is “life”?

What is the point like the tip..like the tip…

 

3:47am in my room,

The question of life has got me consumed.

Then beneath the silence of my mind’s great noise,

From without and within I hear a voice.

 

I AM.

 

The “I” is not me. I know it is He who is I AM.

The one whom my heart struggles to believe is I AM.

Above all the noise, beyond the void, He says I AM.

While I’m out of joint, asking for the point, He says I AM.

I AM.

 

I don’t want Him to be the answer. 

The point, like the tip of that knife

Because I know if this is the answer,

I have reached the tip of my life.

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