How do we not find it exhausting,
Living lives,
Born into mystery?
We’re thrown into this world,
Helplessly absorbing,
Ideas from other minds,
Crawling our way,
Towards an impossibly
distant
light.
We play detective,
Find those elusive clues,
Gather acres of evidence,
Wondering all the while,
Whether our investigative skills,
Are really effective enough,
To find surety,
In our realities.
Knowledge is power,
But also has limits.
Will striving too far,
Leave us untethered,
Freewheeling,
The outer reaches,
Of our minds?
Are perceptions,
Just malleable materials,
Manageable enough,
To keep our heads,
From exploding,
With the volatility,
Of all our surfacing quandaries?
Should we in necessity,
To ease our anxieties,
Just make peace,
With our unknowns?
Walking onward,
Blind to the glaring expectations,
Softly whistling in the dark.
Nicholas Yandell is a composer, who sometimes creates with words instead of sound. In those cases, he usually ends up with fiction and occasionally poetry. He also paints and draws, and often all these activities become combined, because they’re really not all that different from each other, and it’s all just art right?
When not working on creative projects, Nick works as a bookseller at Powell’s Books in Portland, Oregon, where he enjoys being surrounded by a wealth of knowledge, as well as working and interacting with creatively stimulating people. He has a website where he displays his creations; it’s nicholasyandell.com. Check it out!