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The Swing 0522
I hate this swing,
Between the good and the bad without any warning,
Juxtaposed in the joy and happiness, the blues and the madness,
The one that escapes my dreams when there comes the morning.
I hate this swing,
From the ecstasy to the agony and back to the bliss again,
Frightened of where the pendulum will come to a stop,
And face the consequences for the choices back then.
I hate this swing,
That rocks my faith and questions my existence,
Between the heaven and the hell of my own saving grace,
In the evolution of my creation that has no resistance.
I hate this swing,
From the loving passion to the course and lustful rage
That ignores all decorum solely for the purpose of pleasure
In leisure of fantasies that should not be let out of their cage.
I hate this swing,
From the longing for life to the yearning of eternal slumber,
That the simple joys are tainted by the guilt of the past,
Feeling the torment and comfort of not knowing my number.
I hate this swing,
That hangs over my head like a guardian angel or angel of death,
That there is closure in dying than there is guessing in living
Then enjoying all surprises of life with each abated breath.
But in these polar opposites that seem to be so distant,
I find it such a fastidiously and interesting thing,
That in between the dark and light, the right and the wrong,
I loathe and I hate it, but I also love the swing.
Published 18th Jan 2014
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