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The Constant (parts 1-4)

This series of poems was written to accompany a visual work of the same name, pictured here.

By Alexandra AuthementPublished 3 years ago 3 min read
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Part 1 - The Constant

Left. Right.

The pendulum pulls my gaze.

It drags my head across the dark backdrop.

Pulling, pulling. Twisting my spine.

The pendulum is constant.

Moment to moment, hour to hour, day to day, century to century.

Every fragment of time noted by its methodical movements.

If this is a dance, the dead are the ones who sway.

If I am their partner am I dead too?

The pendulum pulls us into one another

The dead and I

Forward to life

Back into death

We are the same

And the future, too

The souls of the unborn join us in the upward swing

And follow us as we retreat into the past

Cyclical? No.

We are a constant

We are one collective mass of the breath of Adam and Eve

If the pendulum is a dance, I am the one who sways

If the dead are my partners, are they alive too?

The dead and I

Back into death

Forward to life

We are the same.

Part 2 - The Ephemeral

I am ephemeral

A vapor

A leaf caught fire

Burning quickly, gone in a moment

I am fleeting

A drop of rain

A grain of sand

Washed out by the tide

I am transient

Temporary

Fleeting

Momentary

Ephemeral

And yet

A vapor was once part

Of a roaring fire

A leaf once helped to clothe an oak

A single drop of rain

Assists in watering a field

Or filling the streams

That lead to the oceans

That pull the single grain of sand away

From the golden beach that it helped create

I am temporal

But it is only because I am part

Of something eternal

Part 3 - The Momentum

The pendulum will swing.

Yet what instinct is it that causes me

To welcome the crushing responsibility

(And the searing pain it brings)

Of trying to control a perpetual force

That requires no push to start

And allows no force to halt its momentum

With my limited life?

The pendulum will swing.

But what foolish part of human nature

Which strand of my DNA

Refuses to relinquish control

Refuses to let it move me

Knowing that I find no satisfaction

In the never-ending process of attempting to silence

The ticking that signals every wasted second

The pendulum will swing.

And what if I did, too?

What if I were to let this motion move me

Drive me

Fuel me

What if I were to let go, or grab on

Perhaps those seconds would not be wasted

But would be filled with that same unstoppable energy

Part 4 - The Finality

Finality.

The condition of having concluded

The closest thing to surety that our swaying minds can grasp

The halt to the swing

The silencing of the clock

The end of the perpetual.

This is the lie we repeat in the abyss.

But there is no halt

There is no silence

There is no conclusion

No surety

No finality.

We are a constant.

The pendulum will continue to swing

And we, slaves to it

Will be drawn ever forward, ever back.

The only certainty is this

sad poetry
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About the Creator

Alexandra Authement

Welcome! I've been writing as a hobby all my life and am interested in sharing my work with a wider audience. Here you'll find poetry, fiction, and short memoirs about my experience growing up in fundamentalist Christianity.

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