Commentary to the reader: I’m not gonna front… I could just barely follow this particular one written by my brother. He has such an extensive vocab that I sometimes have to pull out the dictionary to understand what he is saying. But overall, I think the message in the poem can be found if you look closely enough.

Futility is ever-present, like the necessity of death. At once destructive and constructive, requiring only a shift in one’s perspective. Irrational pursuits with vague, idealistic ends if any at all. Seemingly purpose driven lives that thrive off empty dreams. Lofty but quixotic abundance adding to the immensity of pragmatism’s penury.

Witness me, as I delve back into the lives of many selves once occupied. Seeing through the cold eyes of experience and days gone by. From every position and each dimension. Redouble your focus, look within and just listen. Can you hear it? The retrospective of truth at least as loud as the present.

Can you see it? The past contributions to the present misfortune? Can you, judging from the ideals of then, see that all is not well now? Look at the patterns of thought. Exactly the same. Thought renders action and futility remains. Must only crisis effect real change?

Can you feel it? In the depths of that which you call a spirit? An aura so strong you refuse to come near. The acknowledgement of truth an affliction of fear. You deny that it’s spoken, but we both know you hear. You know, but don’t care that your days are futile. These truths you deny but for only a while.

The more meticulous the flight, the longer it lasts. But speed in this race makes nowhere come fast. Confront and resist. Oppose. Is this it? Opportunities must be seized. Seizures rend results. Failure hurts some, while inaction hurts most.

Oppose the inertia of futility. You conditioned stagnation. The physical decrepitude. The intellectual deterioration. Resist. Fight. Dissent and disparage. Divorced from the past, cling to the present like marriage. A progressive alliance forever in flux. Constant and swift so resolve to keep up.

The stakes are so high in these perilous things, to ape is to die so create to know why. Why you stand above most. The prosaic live off hope. They perpetuate dreams, furthering fantasy. Inviting infinite misfortune from their fervent passivity. As of now you are one of them. Living in futility. The decision is now. Who would you like to be?

~Joseph Walters~