Introspection (some years later).

I have, we have,

All of us gathered,

Have ventured herein before.

Not as reincarnates

No, no, behold,

Each is unique!

So how is that possible?

We have however examined

Ourselves in our past tomes.

We scribblers, we,

Microscopically challenged


The fleet of foot,

The pre-Cambrian,

Pre-Apostle, over apologetic

Fire proof, pistol pulling ones.

We have many previous.

Much previous in fact.

We have done it all

Well and truly, all, before.

We have self sifted

Ourselves almost to oblivion.

We are the gentle fools

Stacked up on someone’s list,

Stifled somewhere obscure;

By fellow column toting

Figure totalling,

Trigonometric howling moon men.

We are someone’s statistical


We gather like puss.


Our fruit is not spoiled.

We are the artisans who suffer.

Give us hope

And we crumble.

We are the Rhinos of Self.

That is we wallow

In the mud of thought,

Of low self esteem,

Of neglect of oneself.


As the thought patterns

Self centre on Me.

Therein exists the link.

The circle of truth,

The selfish, inward,

Person prodding conscience

Has nowhere to relax.

The me, me is locked into

The gigantic circumference

Of unloved coexistence.

There is no look out.

This seals the outlook

Inside the deadhead.

There is no beyond.

As a person

Trapped within your own

Event horizon,

You are the substance

Of your own black hole.

To be further . . .

C2019 Christopher Thompson

One thought on “Introspection (some years later).

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