Celerity

Black sand beach at Vík, Iceland; August 2023

I reckon it a fact

That man must contend to know his Heart

All of his days.

For the days are few when the sun

Shines upon it with clarity, no—

So often he finds himself

Shrouded in uncertainty, obscurity, terror.

There is a war on, 

A war against meaning and purpose.

For we find ourselves besieged

By distraction, material—

The shadow of connection without its substance,

The deception of celerity that moves us forth

Into a passive regression.

Destroy this apathy within me. Burn it,

Though there be nothing left to save…

For an apathetic spirit is worse condemnation

Than eternity in the lake of fire.

To know my place amidst all things.

To sew a thread of hope within the world.

This is the Will of my Heart.