It’s just a bit of stuff
and a bit of nonsense
that keeps one on the back foot
unable to go forwards.
It weighs a ton; sometimes it does
and almost seems magnetic
when time, time again,
it pulls me back and holds.
It’s history really; that is so
yet chases with the vim of youth
and jumps with great agility
over present views.
But of history I think
it’s just a mental construct
when the will to move appears.
And that will is like a beacon;
fail to see and one suffers
in silence mostly like the dead
barred from the thrill of life.
I’m guilty, yes, indeed I am
of closing eyes and standing still
but slowly, slowly, comes the strength
to take that first step forward -
and it’s exhilarating
like the release from slavery.
One step, two steps, three steps, more
and suddenly we’re breathing
the clean and fresh exciting
after years of suffocation!