In Stability

I don’t know
what being stable
feels like anymore

I only know its enemy
Yes
The one that suddenly threw this poem off its triplets
The one whose currents don’t ripple
but instead sends you swirling

But wait
Currents moved in one direction,
didn’t they?
To shore
or sure death
and there was never a middle ground
or a void

Yes
A void
There is a void
That’s the middle ground
that has a fault line darting through
that changes crescendo in tandem
with the vivid raptures of petals gently losing their color when they feel like they’ve seen it all
From a simile of tears
to a metaphor of a desert

Maybe this is what they call change
this constant flux of all things madness
that only settles into an ebb of organised chaos
that beats and beats and beats
through random streams and perturbed rockfalls
sending vibrations
through this intricate web
that has such a mess of wires
and hearts
and warped continuums
which can only breed in mayhem
never in control

thrive in frenzy
never in peace
survive in clouded futures
never in surety
breathe in fluidity
and never,
in stability
.

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