Perpetual Spring (March Contest)


Why does man write?
To document, some might say,
To capture moments, thoughts which might otherwise be lost to time,
Or, perhaps to amuse
To sedate and distract, keeping one’s mind removed from the pains of reality,
A reality in which the gelid rancor of winter eclipses the comforting warmth of spring.

The most compelling motive of all,
Buried deep within the confines of the mind,
Is to deter the changing of the seasons
So as to remain in a perpetual spring.

For spring is a short-lived wonder
Passing through like a parade,
Gone before its fruits can be fully savoured
Swiftly thrust aside by Nature’s will,
Making way for winter’s frigid fangs
While man enlists the written word to prolong Persephone’s reign.

In writing, man reigns supreme
Bending words to his will as a composer does with musical notes.
The writer holds the power to turn chaos into prose,
Nonsense into poetry,
Winter into spring

And so the writer writes,
Envisioning a world where the cherry blossoms endure
The songs of birds permeate the air year-round
And the sun’s gentle touch keeps the bleakness at bay,
Shielding man from the icy clutches of every kind of winter.

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