The Fallen Ones

Look out!

The Ideals are falling;

This is the fifty year end.

Stone upon uncut stone,

Rumbling and tumbling to the ground,

Smashing against rock into ashen smoke.

Don't run!

Stand like the man you are

And savor sourly

The slice of Italian-made,

Blue-tint glass shards,

Into your soft dust-speckled skin.

Who built this?

Stay.

Silently, solemnly, with a subtle smirk -

 Watch them bury you -

Through and through;

Then rise.

bodo2014

Now, ideally a poem should not be explained. I will elaborate on this one simply because as I said, that is an ideal. You may still interpret it in your own way usijali.

As we form and end various relationships at different points of life, there are certain constants. We either get friends who will help us through tangible rewards (like loaning us/giving out hugs and fist thumps when our team wins) and/or those who help by being what we want to be.  We search for friends who uphold our ideals as/more than we do. Ultimately we relate to our idea of what people are.

These ideas sometimes are our own creations/creatures. Sometimes something happens (a word, a situation, a preacher in a bus :) and opens our eyes to the fact that we've been living a dream. Not that this person has changed, just that the image we had has fallen. The greatest 'most principled' friends become 'kawaida' normal human beings. The ideals fall.