Welcome to Gaia! :: View User's Journal | Gaia Journals

Difficulty making myself work: therefore, the series of insect poems I'm writing for my own fun, followed by stream-of-thought.

:Flickering into stresslights, the firefly recognizes its only flame is internal, and
becomes a pyromaniac.
:I didn't know butterflies had feathers until, touching an exhibit,
they came off on my fingers and the wing looked like petrified Seran wrap.
:A yellowjacket, seeking heroism, kills itself on my finger.
Ten years later, I haven't forgotten.
:Trundling and unassuming, the water bear suddenly dries up.
Once it has outlived my dog, it finds and inhabits
a new dewdrop.
:Lost in the swarm and searching for something different,
one grasshopper flips away and munches contentedly on a rose petal.
:And the moth, desperate for the lunar limelight,
briefly meets a firefly.


Flickering into stresslights, I turn here, to ether. Proclaim!
This is who we are. Soulless automatons, created by evolutionary chance. Even emotion is merely a way to ensure more of us survive; with no natural predators, the only factors influencing reproductive ability are self-determined; therefore, evolving emotion
and unnecessary attachments each self to others,
was merely a clever ploy. Now, a sensitive poet,
a bodybuilder,
and an academic
are all equally likely to reproduce; and the human race proliferates.
Emotion, then. Why? So we control it, yes? Or can. Or subdue; erase it.
Therefore - telekinesis. Moving chemicals. So we can move the universe
but!
This leaves us questioning: what is emotion? We can allow ourselves to feel. Love, stress; fear, offense; bitter depression, annoying joy. So, then, what does emotion mean?
Nothing, I say. Nothing until you can strip yourself to the core of You and still say, "Ah-hah. This is an emotional response."
I can't, yet, save for a few things. There are people, ideas, concepts, that when attacked in my presence, will bring brutal punishment. But even these; bring them under question.
Why?
Well, and why?
And why?
Because you must cut away everything. Somewhere, you and the universe have codeveloped a soul. Where is it? These are the things you cannot let go. Are any of them emotional reactions? Or are these merely things that, if taken from you, remove you from what you are - make you... not you?
The Core. The Soul. What is yours?