I haven’t posted anything in ages, but that doesn’t mean that I haven’t been writing. Well, I just haven’t been pumping out anything that I want to publish, really, lol.
Anyway, so today was day one of our finals week (time flies, doesn’t it?), and surprisingly, that gave me the time to write (somehow the setting and the feel of everything was just perfect for it). I came to school at a beautiful hour of the morning, and I was all alone, so the need to write just came.
This was written in Gonzaga Down (therefore the title), one of the big cafeterias on campus, notorious for being the least likely place to have an existential crisis (or any other deep jazz like that). And yet, it’s been the setting for a lot of drama and complexities and philosophizing for me (at least outside, because you’re directly facing the zen garden. Actually being inside the cafeteria is another matter). And I guess this poem sort of summarizes that.
I haven’t lifted this pen and spilled this ink
For as long as I haven’t eloped to think
Quiet left and silence forgone
The whole world turned noise in the face of the sun
Gentleness fights to be heard
In this throng of meaningless words,
Of keyboard-clacking and chair-grating;
Of static oldies and ventilation droning
But if I can hear with my eyes
And listen to the humble pebbles and azure skies
And morning birds and winding paths
And rolling leaves and green grass
Then the whole world stills
And my mind wanders as it wills
It rolls in the cool soft earth
And as I sit on the concrete, I find rebirth