A poem I wrote once

Preface:
This poem is written as my views as a Taoist. As such, it is influenced by concepts such as wu-wei (non-action). It with apologies to readers that the structure is somewhat lacking and the form changes so drastically throughout the poem; I wrote this with no notion of what would become of the work. Its form is natural and effortless.


Untitled
How can I describe my inner mind?
There are no words for my emotions,
There is no image to convey.

Why is there no image to convey?
Why do words fail in their purpose?
I cannot answer completely for
I am limited by words.
Shackled by images.
However, I will express myself as eloquently and
Clearly as a man such as myself can.

First I must describe the failure of words.
There exists an eternal and perfect language,
but men cannot speak it.
There exists a perfect poem,
With stanzas formed from mountains - and
Couplets of sunsets and clouds.
The rhymes are the sound of rain on rocks,
the movement of the wind in trees.
I however am limited in my understanding.
I must associate my thoughts with
interpretations of words.

This is the flaw of words.
They cannot be finite as they are relative.
They try (and yet fail) to bring wholeness
to that which is already whole.

I try to learn the True Language.
I try to hear the Words.
But, instead of feeling a sense of balance
I feel a storm of emotion, of thought whirling,
Swirling inside my chest.
It consumes reason and logic
And they become part of it.
It consumes emotion and intuition
And they contribute to its speed.
It is a storm of destruction that once passed
Leaves new life.

I cannot reach the state that I desire;
I cannot become that which I admire.
I must settle with being simply me,
Until the time which I can mature beyond my vessel.
Like a creature of the sea leaving its shell.
Like the water of a lake becoming a stream.

So, when I focus on nothing.
When I embrace my emotions
I become infinitely joyous;
I become a conduit of understanding
Of life and its inescapable intoxication.
I become eternally depressed;
My limitations as a man hinder my ability to be
Whole.

And so, I quell the storm inside by splitting the
Peace-es.
I place intellect in my brain.
I push love into my heart.
Passion becomes my blood and hatred
I place in my stomach,
Its vileness eating at me –
reminding me of my imperfection.

I leave my senses aware of the world around me.
They interpret the True Wisdom.
I allow sadness to become my memory
And hope to become my dreams.
I do this on and on.
My wonder becomes my ambition
My manners stem from humility.

And finally!
I have returned from the mountains and valleys
Of emotion and innocence and youth.
I am.