Preview edition — Poet in Wonderland is still in progress. The poem is as it appears in the video; the commentary is a working draft.
Living in a minecraft world, you have a joy of creating a reality unique
Throughout life you mined for precious stones, got wood and crafted tools with skills and technique
You moved beyond comfort to find other resources meaningful even in the times of fatigue and critique
At night, survival kicks in to be within shelter against grotesque creepers attacking at oblique
And with little peace, you sleep with bruised hands as the night passes with acquired inventory
And to a new morning while singing songs of melody, with your axe you ask yourself what high hopes may spring for a good story?
In a memory of any workday,
sometimes your best isn't enough
sometimes your weakness is enough
Sometimes you may find love and resilience,
Other times there maybe fights and silence
All collections and discoveries become part of your new history but does achievement shorten worry?
With a vision in heart, you play so hard till your name become an inscription on the mines
And for that new players may see, decrypt the works and the dream you brought to shine
Poet in Wonderland · Hear it on the channel ↗
Commentary
This poem turns a video game into a picture of working life. Mining, building and surviving the night become a way to talk about effort, doubt and leaving a mark.
Living “in a minecraft world” gives “a joy of creating a reality unique.” Through life you have “mined for precious stones, got wood and crafted tools,” and moved “beyond comfort” to find resources even in “fatigue and critique.” At night, survival “kicks in” against “grotesque creepers attacking at oblique.”
You sleep “with bruised hands” and wake “to a new morning while singing songs of melody,” asking with your axe “what high hopes may spring for a good story.” The poem admits that “sometimes your best isn’t enough” and “sometimes your weakness is enough.”
Some days bring “love and resilience,” others “fights and silence,” and “All collections and discoveries become part of your new history.” The poem asks “does achievement shorten worry?” and ends with a hope that “your name become an inscription on the mines” for “new players” to find.