The Fall of The Existential Hero

This cliff once held me, long now left my sight, Plunging through voids until my grim surrender, Around me skulk dark shadows, murky night, Confusion strikes like cold rains in November, Strong solid grounds is but a mere illusion, Cacophony of life piercingly plays, Her instruments all broke but play in fusion, Her dissonance; dejects, disarms, dismays, But how shall I describe this in a word? when what are words except for feeble labels? *Reality is nothing but absurd,* And words only describe our evil fables, I stand before this beast of vast dimensions, This fire breathing dragon I must slay, My sword craves blood, but reason gently mentions: “This battle will rage till your dying day” Can never win, yet can’t afford to lose, This never ceasing battle of attrition, My sword will rust, my heart will sing the blues, But never will my quest come to fruition, Still I must fight for such is man’s great fate, Until I can no longer pound the spike, I struggle answering questions I can’t state, Which head in today’s battle should I strike? My swing is often blind and poorly planned, Regardless my command and my precisions, This battle rages till I cannot stand, My hands will stain with blood of my decisions, The irony is beautifully efficient, as I seek liberation from decree, forever bound within our meek condition, *imprisoned and condemned thus to be free,* does god enjoy the show from his great steeple? Our sins cascade yet never reprimanded, *And where is god if hell is other people?* *By our beloved god we’ve been abandoned,* The hands of time caste haste on my lone plummet And truth shall change like dawning of new season, Some day I’ll surely reach my fall’s great summit. Only our poems will paint a world of rhyme and reason. The following quotes from the existentialist philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre have been slightly modified and inserted into the poem. “Reality is absurd” “we are condemned to be free ” “Hell is other people” “We have been abandoned by god”

gene16180

My muse can be unseemly and nomadic although she fancies meter and good rhyme, her diligence and output are sporadic, and some may say she’s moving past her prime. At times she’s off consorting with the sages reflecting on existence, as it were, At...

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