do all who walk eventually run?

do all who walk eventually run?

how shall i know if i run, or if i merely walk?
what is running?
how does it look like, what would i look like?
and if i ask, does it mean that i do not run?
for those with eyes on the wreath,
this would seem like the silliest question
(but still, take heed lest you fall).
but for us who are less athletic and more ordinary,
how do we know, what shall we do?
and if the exhortation is simply, ‘run, you fools, run!’
does it mean that there is no room for simple folk,
or do all who walk eventually run?
in such a way that the struggles of our youth grow obsolete,
in such a way that we will never need to ask?

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Coup d’état

the first time; a trigger – the flashpoint.
the second time; affirmation – the declaration of war.
arrogance slew innocence,
and every subsequent time a bloody battle.
the smell of iron fills the air; the rivers are dyed red.
a war i have no chance of losing,
yet everyday i am defeated.
how am i to go back to how things were?
how am i to move forward to how things should be?


Q

Ihre Krone

if life is long, then i be glad;
if short, then why should i be sad?

would i, too, one day be able to utter those words with complete conviction?

what does it say about me
if i enjoy the mundane,
if i find joy in the little things
and if i am a little afraid of pain?

what would it say about me
if i sometimes find the frivolous intriguing,
if i’m not completely fearless about dying
and cannot quite yet count death as gain?

it is hard to do good; harder still to do right.
yet ‘my yoke is easy, and my burden is light’;
so why do i find it difficult and heavy to bear
as i continue to struggle day on day?

p a n a c e a

click for source

give me amnesia.
liberate from me my fears,
wind back all those years,
and let me keep my tears,

allow me to rest in peace,
from this torment find release,
and sedate this raging beast;
if i die, let the war in me cease,
and i pray, you’d let me be at ease.

so give me amnesia,
salvation from this dystopia,
my one remaining panacea.

So I ask, is it better to:

not have done something and regretting about not doing it; or

have done something and then regretting about having done it?

contra mundum

doves are in yonder flight; ante bellum,
the good often die young; we keep vigil.

life can never escape death; memento mori.
even the highest peaks despair; the skies higher still.

the world is not ours to inherit; dust off our feet.
there is nothing to be mourned, fait accompli.

but even as the river flows, unstoppable,
we walk against the clock, contra mundum.

Conceived because I was fascinated by some Latin / French words.

Christians may notice some gospel-inspired lines. Hehe.

*
ante bellum = before the war
memento mori = remember everyone dies
fait accompli = what has been done cannot be changed
contra mundum = against the world

but a mere pawn

‘i’m a mess,’
no better than cess;
‘a trainwreck, i confess.
i’d be a pawn if life were chess.’

but why despair at being a pawn?
everyone feels small at some point.
we all worry, we all fear, we all stumble.

rooks and knights and bishops and the queen.
we look at them  in envy and exclaim, ‘wow, aren’t they brilliant?’
‘why are they so beautiful and i, so pitiful?’
‘could i ever become someone like them?’
‘i hate myself.’

but what’s with the oversight of a pawn’s ability?
‘what ability?’ you ask, seemingly in astonishment.
‘is the pawn not just fodder?
the stones on which other pieces step on to attain glory?’
‘what ability could we possibly have?’
‘i feel guilty for being such a liability.’

yet once again, the pawn’s importance is overlooked.
a bare rook, a lone knight, an unguarded bishop, a solitary queen.
what successes, if any, await their own, futile frolics?

great empires had great emperors;
great emperors in turn had great generals;
and even great generals had the support of great soldiers.
no king has ever conquered by his lonesome.

pawns may never become kings,
but there will be no kingdom without pawns.
and yet we seem to be forgetting something,

there’s more to the pawn than just supporting the larger pieces.
they all have the potential to be tide turners, key players;
each one of them possess an inherent ability that no other piece have.

the pawn has the ability to change.

unlike all other pieces, the pawn can progress.
as they soldier on to the opposite end to the board,
combating obstacles, and conquering adversaries,
they improve themselves, augmenting their own abilities.
no longer would they stare across the board, green with envy;
instead, they looked will be looked at as equals.

so no, life isn’t so bad as a pawn.
in a way, we are all pawns;
seeking to better ourselves,
struggling to the other side,
running our own perpetual race,

on the chessboards of life.
don’t despair about being a pawn.
that is today, but we have tomorrow.
so hold off your sorrow.

as long as you have it within you
to make it to the other side,
you too can be something great.
self hatred and never-ending guilt,
they only stands in the way of true change.

the ability to change…

it’s pretty awesome.