personal box

[nuit]

Why do I live in this self-made box?
I know not the keys, know not the locks!
I weirdly stay away from others;
Unless their presence impales or smothers:
Upon my self, hidden away, from fear - Of contact? Of love? Of darkness banished?
Of not being able to carry on a relevant conversation-
I shun others for reasons I can’t say;
Or think. Or understand!
God wants me to:
Wait until they come to me?
I may wait a long time, Not knowing what I have missed.
And then fight with myself for missing it-
For being so upright and correct, I allowed
The River of Life to flow by me, uncaring, but desperately searching
For I know not what?
A sign from above?
The perfect love?
The perfect hate?
Am I too late?
Or too early?
Who cares, anyway?
Do you? Do I? Does anyone?
The way of the hermit is fraught with self:
That’s all there is:
Me! Myself! I!
If there were others I must needs change:
Horror of horrors!
To be different than I am, an improvement;
Why fight so hard to remain unchanged?
Frustrated? Desperate? Iron-clad, hide-bound
Inside of this skin that will not loosen.
To let the soul rampage about; just a little;
To go past the fear to the fun!
Then what?
What new fears await?
Beyond the ego’s gate?
Beyond the thrall of restricted self?
Of a life lived upon the shelf?
Whither? Whither? Whither?
Is the way out of THE BOX???

[lenejento]

Originally Posted by nuit

Why do I live in this self-made box?
I know not the keys, know not the locks!
I weirdly stay away from others;
Unless their presence impales or smothers:
Upon my self, hidden away, from fear - Of contact? Of love? Of darkness banished?
Of not being able to carry on a relevant conversation-
I shun others for reasons I can’t say;
Or think. Or understand!
God wants me to:
Wait until they come to me?
I may wait a long time, Not knowing what I have missed.
And then fight with myself for missing it-
For being so upright and correct, I allowed
The River of Life to flow by me, uncaring, but desperately searching
For I know not what?
A sign from above?
The perfect love?
The perfect hate?
Am I too late?
Or too early?
Who cares, anyway?
Do you? Do I? Does anyone?
The way of the hermit is fraught with self:
That’s all there is:
Me! Myself! I!
If there were others I must needs change:
Horror of horrors!
To be different than I am, an improvement;
Why fight so hard to remain unchanged?
Frustrated? Desperate? Iron-clad, hide-bound
Inside of this skin that will not loosen.
To let the soul rampage about; just a little;
To go past the fear to the fun!
Then what?
What new fears await?
Beyond the ego’s gate?
Beyond the thrall of restricted self?
Of a life lived upon the shelf?
Whither? Whither? Whither?
Is the way out of THE BOX???

You're a good poet nuit Keep it up!