Poem-A-Day: Day 137

Final Notice

I can’t help but notice
that I’ve lost my feet,
or maybe footing,
in a bizarre ritual of self-sacrifice.
I haven’t actually sacrificed anything
except my listlessness,
my profound ability
to be completely at rest
and restless
at times concurrently cohabitating
parallel plains of existence.
For this reason alone,
I can no longer figure
where my feet have gone.
I walk upright,
no better than Cro-Magnon man,
often dragging,
with deep-set, troubled eyes,
loincloth,
and spear in hand
stabbing sadly at the sun
as it is overwhelmed
by eclipsing egomaniacal shadows.
I’m so caught up
in my own skullduggery
that I can’t even tell
the shadow is my own,
being cast up
skyward lightning from the ground.
I can’t help but notice,
because my gaze is falsely skewed,
by the undermining lie
of my own greatness.