Falling forward
I’m moving forward, it is plain to see.
Yes, I progress continually.
An almighty achievement, I do agree
But it feels as though some force were propelling me.
And I do not mean fate or some bearded deity
(Indeed, I loathe the both of those ideologies)
Rather a compulsion, born of the inability
To stave off the affects of gravity.
Thus life lurches forward in perpetuity,
Never quite falling, nor stalling and never free
To but pause, not even momentarily
to sample the anti-physics of true inactivity.
For living beyond the tipping point means tumbling violently
Collapsing forward through space, through time
and social activity.
by Liam Bland
