Modern Living

The endless shift of phases
Modes of moods
At one moment seeing beauty in all things
The mold, moles and smog of the world
The ideographic pattern of the oil mixing with the once-clear water
The brilliant coaxing fire consuming someone's childhood home
Like black ants ravishing a fallen ice cream sandwich
And then later
Who knows when?
Or why?
Unable to find a molecule of reassurance
Not in the tin voice of my mother's advice
The oversized bones of a young white lab
Or best rant Chayefsky ever wrote
Nothing
Hopeless
By what means is this switch flipped?
One moment becomes that trapped grain of sand
That develops into a pearl of choking disdain and endwise forethought
A great masher bargained for by the loudest of the children
Adored, embraced as gospel and, yes, forgotten
Then
Once again
All is right inside and out
Simply a moment passed
As fickle as an infant's attention in a crowd
The real human condition
That some might call bipolar disorder
That I would call modern living