Bleak-Safe Future

Tap tap tap foot, flex and shake, 

why a need for movement? 

It does not end stagnant life stillness, 

only now space silence. 

Feet take me, quick and cold, 

to wanted and unwanted but always close paces. 

I doubt certainty in my bleak-safe future, 

my shaken horizon, wavy, spread, sharp, stung. 

Stillness clogs thoughts, 

hushes and sings buds to sleep. 

Some sprout, shrivel at the feel of 

non-motion. 

No day explodes action, longs for new, 

but chips and breaks at same. stop. hold. 

Why seek new? 

Why motion? 

Brain waves occupied long for nothing, 

kept busy enough. I could read, 

never interact, leave, they would sit still, 

not in wait--in bloated stagnancy. 

I taught Cassie fetch, 

Kate longed for back forth non-thought. 

Fingers press required buttons to maintain 

same patterned programs, different results, stagnant  motion. 

Why then boredom with new,

unknown knowledge? 

How then not desire 

comfort in still stale sameness? 

Enough change, 

busy feet return to this same home, 

this same stance, this known bed, 

this safe normalcy. 

Balance, feet, 

between new change and old safe: 

A key found in shaking to break up 

infuriating still quiet stillness.