The Delicate String

“The Delicate String”
By: Joseph Michael Webb
November 12, 2009

Wisdom hangs on a delicate string
inches above my somnolent head.
I reach toward it, but it is out of grasp
I can see it; I can feel its breeze.

Dangling above me are all my dreams;
my hopes all bound to a single thread
Taunting me with its unattainable being,
teasing me with its promises of grandeur.

Everything that has been handed to me
in the earlier years of my existence
now escapes me to right above my head.
What must I do to obtain what is mine?

Complaining of my ineptitudes and waste
will never do the job—I must do something.
I should take control of my own life,
stop resenting others for my deeds.

I do not need anyone to attain my goals,
I can do without the judgments and lies;
the condescending and angry remarks
that hinder me from my growth and dreams.

Wisdom hangs on a delicate string,
I am the only one who can cut this twine.
I am the one who needs to deliver my aims.
My ambitions are mine to keep and savor.