A Little Bit of Magic (the existential crisis) by Westley Nash
A Little Bit of Magic
(the existential crisis)

by Westley Nash life stories
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westleynash
westleynash Sharing a life as felt through my heart.
Autoplay OFF   •   2 months ago
An existential crisis is often the target of derision and humour, but if you ever find yourself trapped within one then it is not so easily dismissed nor denied. This poem was the end result of my own existential struggle. For I lost two very important things very close together, things that brought me purpose and stability and so left me questioning everything and accepting nothing! I went from knowing exactly who I was, to knowing absolutely nothing at all... Admittedly I have found some direction since that time but even now I feel an emptiness deep in my heart that can never be filled.

Best wishes
Westley xx
#thoughtsofsteel

A Little Bit of Magic (the existential crisis) by Westley Nash

I could really use a little magic right now...

An inexplicable paranormal encounter or scarcely plausible miracle that vigorously challenges the outer boundaries of the innermost mind.

Please permit anything from far beyond my fathom to reach out and spark this inanimate life back into some sense of greater meaning.

For the mundane reality stood here before me appears to lack any real size or scope outside of the material.

A place where every human inhabitant seems to care so very little for any sensation past that of the plainly physical.

But what if your taste for such pleasures has long since expired?

What if your passions to build lasting domains have fallen into permanent decline?

How can a heart keep so much as a fragment of ease when every waking second our eyes persist with infinite resolve to gaze upon something so much more?

A promise we believe exists out there in those distant lands, obscured by the towering walls of sterility which surround us.

A credence that somehow survives and prospers despite the same desolation being found without as it is within each time we peer through the cracks in it's structure.

How can an inquisitive mind ever know peace when every question asked is immediately swallowed by a lifeless drone?

Where even the faint echoes of our intentions are absorbed by that passive silence,

unable to wrest the most tenuous hope from the void that a higher substance may grow in abundance just over the horizon.

A plentiful harvest ready to yield in full it's enriching new adventures that boast a virtue untarnished by the bleached and infertile soil grinding like vengeful teeth below our tired feet...

Just a little bit of magic is all I ask,

for surely this cannot be all there is...

Art by Westley Nash Go to YouTube and search #thoughtsofsteel to find all my spoken word poems, including this one...

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