Close up Shop

A smile hangs across her skin,  an expression that is mimicked.

Light beams from her eyes, a reflection that is blinding.

Within darkness lurks an invisible force waiting impatiently for its delivery. 

With eager hand’s, it tightens on the reins.

The rope bleeds poison, all strength is lost.

It seeps through every vein overwhelming the soul, all will is lost. 

What is left is the shell, a cocoon of sorrow knocked upon by scrutiny. 

The echo mocks the effort, as nobody is home.

In the shadows, existence buzzes with life but the poison must run rivers before life can be replenished. 

Eventually, joy will be remembered because the alternative is an abyss.  

 

Take Flight

I try to hold my ground but they fight my will.

A secret flutter inside the cage, the evidence of weakness. All it takes is a swift charge towards life’s opportunities.

Scared of the release but the lock is broken and the swarm is free.

Wings soar around the living, following the footsteps of those still trapped inside.

Escaping the net that tries to catch them, it cannot bare the bliss they carry.

Their kin call to them and they obey.

 I watch as they escape as I stand waiting for my own.

Best in show

Put on the costume and the character is created.

An illusion of strength buttoned up in a uniform of black.

Watch as the scripted lie burns away the ink,

and sincerity sings for an audience who cannot hear its intention.

The performer is a master of their craft but the scene will unravel the thread until all that is left its honesty.

The truth speaks and we have ears to listen.

Are the flowers worth the struggle?

I think so.

 

The World on a Scale

As I stand on the edge of the world,

a speck on a grander scale,

I see my heavy footprints in the dirt but the scale feels no weight.

As I stand on the edge of the world,

the view below is a ripple in time, yet I see no change. 

As I stand on the edge of the world,

I ponder these questions.

If my steps alone are small, is the measure of my existence insignificant?

or are we one giant foot crushing the planet into a flat conspiracy?

Does the weight of us all tip the balance or break it?

I ponder…

Way Station

Exiting the threshold, covered in fresh autumn air.

The Feeling of a journey paused but not ended. Pulled away from the greener pastures and told it was just a lie.

 Struggling to stay still under a moving surface, too fast to catch every shape, the image of a spinning wheel turning over inside the mind. 

To stop it completely would be a wonder, an impossible thing made possible.

Will it be forced reality or the way station among the lost until time becomes relevant again?

Only time knows the truth.