To be content
is rudimental
placid at most
neither gay nor bitter
fundamentally incomplete
and
incompleteness demands solitude
a solitary floating state of being content
and it daunts you abruptly
when you least expect it
Hopelessness is a disease
a brushfire of accidental events
or is it?
and the cure is also never planned
it eventuates
the disease and its cure are both stupefying accidents
they just happen
as simple as that
and if you cry out "why?"
they simply tell you:
"Things just happen"
Surprises good or bad
were never of interest to me
"control" I always demanded
yet I consistently prayed for an uncontrollable,
unforeseen eventuality
an act of exhilarating surprise a happening, a cure:
to be Complete
Content and Hopeless
I found a cure
that creates butterflies in the gut
that makes me feel whole
--- free
---- pleasantly surprised
---- happy
---Complete---
