Sunday, December 9, 2018

And Yet



A Prayer for the Burdened



Crumbling Under Weight
I carry for no reason
My shoulders and back burdened
By life
By the invisible band of thieves, muggers and murderers
By the streaking tear
By the shreaking fear
That tells me lies construed to disguise
All truth to the contrary

My back and shoulders burdened
I collapse into dust, like a tower of controlled demolition
Isolation is my company
No dream left to dream
No inhale, no exhale
The stillness of smoldering embers
In the aftermath of this war against my sanity
Thoughts spiral downward in beliefs all too familiar

It is too late
You are not enough
This is your fate
There is no love

And yet …

As the embers cool
A reminder to the fool
The ash and dust replaced
By the face behind the face
By the sun behind the eclipse
By the seed buried deep in soil
We play the foil to our foreign, over-dramatic selves
Once burdened – our back and shoulders
Someone has moved aside the boulders
Escaping the cave of eternal death
Plato ushers us around the corner to perceive
All that is truly to be seen
The truth

It is never too late
For the below is above
You control your own fate
You are the love

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