Climbing Age and Sloping Back

For someone on the low-rung of the ladder of life,

it seems in vain to think of anything

beyond my own impossibly unimportant bubble.

But still, as I toil away

and try to make sense of the decisions and mistakes I make,

while using the bad to make good,

or at least make something,

I find myself pondering

why I toe the line

between arrogance and self-confidence so often.

#

So often, I find myself dismayed

at how easily and readily I am overlooked

when it is superabundantly clear to me

that exceptionality is something I exude.

#

We are all the main characters in our life.

This is true,

but I have always felt I am destined for greater things,

opposed to paddling in the dirty mire of obscurity.

#

No—

Notoriety and fame,

whichever comes first or lasts longest.

If either, or both, I've achieved something.

#

There are several points—no not points.

Seemingly tiny and inconspicuous,

without bearing on anything of import.

There are several huge-scale, life-defining moments in my life,

as is the case for anyone else on this journey we call existence,

when I could have taken different paths.

#

We all have those nexus moments.

Those pivotal chances

for greatness or redundancy:

The job interview,

the first date,

the first date job interview,

the treatment for a debilitating and, frankly,

potentially fatal disease—

one I have not yet had to face.

#

So many firsts.

So many turnpikes.

A Frost-like fork.

#

Stay at school,

go get drunk,

or vote for the most likeable candidate.

They only seem like points

at the point of contact.

#

Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who is the—

No.

Not rehashing that fabled cliché.

Mirror, mirror, not on the wall,

cast aside from the wall,

so as not to redirect truth held within

back towards me.

#

Who is the complicated man

of climbing age and sloping back?

#

Cause and effect,

cause and defect,

cause and reflect,

cause and deflect.

#

Self-awareness is only so efficient at furthering my existence,

as one step back

so often leads to two steps backward.

Is forward motion really forward

if backward is your constancy?

#

There are several points—no not points.

There are several huge-scale, life-defining moments in my life

when I could have taken different paths.

We all have those nexus moments.

Those pivotal chances for greatness or redundancy.

#

Leave school or fight for that role—

the job you'll die in.

Choose that girl—no, not your wife—

for a burger, not a juicy steak.

Rip that stake in stability

for abandonment and frivolity.

#

What if the nexus event is not the nexus event,

but another step towards infamy of the worst kind?

#

And still I wonder,

ponder,

ruminate;

what if this is the mistake—

not that fork?

*

Thanks for reading!

Author's Notes: As I've said to some and mentioned in some of my posts and comments, I've been branching out and trying to get published on different places and entered a few competitions. The above poem was my unsuccessful entry for the Ralph Angel Poetry Prize 2025. There was no theme, so you could enter a poem about anything.

I've had it since May 1st, so it's one of the longest periods of time I've gone without sharing a newly written piece.

Am I gutted I didn't place in the competition? Of course. Do I think it was a waste of time? No. You need to enter these things to have a chance. If you never try, you will never win.

Here are some other things: