Sometimes
even the
perfection
of organization
feels
scattered and
disorganized
and like
nothing
is right
in the world
and the brain
spirals into
overload
How is it
that in a day
filled with
hard work and
physical labor
at the end
of the day
somehow failure
seems to be
the feeling
that weighs
heaviest
on the soul?
Sharp edges
and prickle points
wherever
skin touches
and irritation
results
as red welts
rise on the skin
like the
restless irritation
that rides
upon the soul
and won’t
let go
I don’t want
to feel
inconvenienced
and yet
the emotion
blazes
across my senses
anyway
without permission
because
all I really want
is to be home
instead of doing
whatever
needs done
I see jellyfish
floating in air
and pause
in wonder
at the artistry
above
dangling
with handwoven
basketry
and blow glass
orbs
trailing light
from inner shadows