It occurred to me that
life may actually be as spherical as the planet earth.
And just like the age-old misconception
of a flat forever dropping into an abyss.,
maybe it is also silliness to believe
that time occurs in a linear fashion.
that progress only moves in one direction.
That success is based on,
a measurable height.
When it’s simply a system,
An average size, mass-produced.
You must be “this tall: to ride this ride.”
It’s just a fabricated fail-safe
Designed to divert liability,
To Regulate mortality
But in reality,
You assume your own risk.
What’s the difference of a few inches?
How tall is your soul?
How broad is your mind?
How heavy is your history?
How wide is your periphery?
How deep is your reservoir?
How long is your memory?
How far is your reach?
How open are your arms?
How warm is your presence?
How high can you leap?
How textured is your perception?
How expansive is your insight?
How connected are your instincts?
How tangible are your dreams?
All of these things,
of a person’s ability
to face risk “successfully”
than the current height
of their skeleton.
It is a Spiral not a circle.
Sometimes you have to
peruse, and scout out,
before taking dead aim.
A stray bullet can be just as fatal
if you know how to ricochet.
Ever closer, ever deepening, tightening,
honing, tailoring, and coiling toward your deepest core,
poised to spring.
If you feel redundant,
if you look around you and realize,
“Haven’t I been here before? ”
It’s because you have.
You passed it around the curve.
But don’t be discouraged about circling,
because this time you took the inside lane.
Every time you see the same street sign,
You see it with new eyes.
You were equipped at birth
with all the renewable resources you need
to flourish, to thrive.
But life doesn’t come with a mining map,
We have to dig holes by instinct alone.
However, as you hone your skill
And purge distraction.
You will Soon discover
that everything you wander off
that fulfillment you seek,
the truth, the love, the purpose,
the theme, the art, the meaning –
Came along for that same spiral journey,
The treasure hunted,
cozily tucked between the bones
muscle and skin of your venturing temple.
So, cast your net another way.
I cannot be summated.
I am not a net worth.
I am more than all the potential earnings,
more than my height or width.
I am worth more than my weight
in kilograms, stones, and pounds
all added up together
and repaid to me in gold.
For I possess true luxury:
A deep well with an ever-flowing spring
running through it like toddler feet,
never still long enough to age.
Not a day of stagnance.
A fresh stream.
being in your bloodstream.
Oh wait, it is.
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Comments about this poem (The Spiral by Emily Dawn )
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
A Dream Within A Dream
Edgar Allan Poe
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
Rainer Maria Rilke
(4 December 1875 – 29 December 1926)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Dreams, Langston Hughes
- Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
- If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
- If, Rudyard Kipling
- Daffodils, William Wordsworth
- Fire and Ice, Robert Frost
- I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings, Maya Angelou
- A Dream Within A Dream, Edgar Allan Poe