Where has the ground gone?

Where is that warm-hearted feeling of security?
Only dry seeds left out in the thunderstorm,
no elevation of feeling to the eiffel tower of a long-lasting orgasm,
only moods of anxiety, only moods of mild-mannered raises...
nothing much to get excited about,
no sun to bask in.

If only I had saved during the years of plenty.
Business was good, nothing to worry about. Theft problems,
they seemed trivial although heart-breaking.
If only I had saved during the years of plenty.

Now, I just hope that tomorrow is not a worse season.

Maybe the economic ground is not the important ground.
Love in the family, that is the seed
of motivation.
Love of God, the handiwork of morality.
Under the cold night sky, the stars shine ever brighter.
They are not afraid for they are always fulfilling their tasks.
The seasons, the leaves of trees that change and display their dazzling colors before they are had,
they do what is right at the right time.
But we have time to be lazy,
to be bored of the patterns of our lives,
wish for short spurts of pleasure
that bring back the high-life of high school or some vicarious feeling
of being beautiful or special,
we break the pattern of our lives,
we mask our ugliness in our traumas
that threaten to unloose our primitive instincts.

nothing will ever taste as good as the food or water that we drink when we are
at the edges of thirst and hunger.
refined taste is no virtue
but a kind of sexual transferrence.

can we wash ourselves
and become whole
flooding the lines of our pains which harden
into cruelty
rust into seasoned pride?