Before action, comes reflection
upon each question yet to come
Flowing shades of random heights
distill the directions of this future's plight.
protesting or in affirmation, of the shape of space yet to foil
The buildup is the monster we must
slay, nerves, multiplying and thusly spawning
the angst of an evenings slumber lacking assembly,
where true sleep, can be snared by the nightmares net,
As caution's imbalanced by our demons flesh and frame,
for with anticipation, doubt and it's distress are certain to claim
the seeded revelations lost to our many tracts of unplowed soil
Rigid breaths quickly fill, spurring forth the weathered lung,
tepidly pacing each inhalant razed, as exhaled words expunge
rapid measures stirred within, beleaguering conditions born unto
accepted frames of clouded hue, dyeing calmness the colors needed to
foster growth within ourselves, for without, we cannot speak,
and tightly skewered life unglues, severing self upon fate's peak,
where crags punctuate the twisting paths of acmes coil
The quivering moves that make the bow,
unsteadying an aim that's hindered slow
The bass-less voice becomes the arrow, engrained
fears bite down, into a loveless marrow deeply strained
Sautéing respite blind and braised, tunneling cruel
the archer's sight, where a shivered imbalance sets to duel
An internal storm, preceded by its tolling gale,
thoughts breed altered, fingers twinge as pallor pales
the force one pursued, casting frost upon dominion's toil
The student waits in painful pause,
the teacher blames the lies crafted by applause
riddling the jester with glances, heckling forth gestures,
serving the accomplice alone, abetting stagnation and each its slurs,
Our hero swoons in abandonment, staring long unto frozen seas,
bearing witness to the deadliest of dreams
But onward he must, recapturing a light long since dark
Out of practice, out of sorts, yet still he must embark,
over this dirty forge, where each misstep further roils
First scanning through the banks of thought,
seeking that something that's since been lost
bursting forth, the epiphany swallows
allowing preparation a rebirth hallowed
With sword in hand, shield concealing the right
Shining in his armor, he basks aglow, treading toward this light
The words arrive, one and all, he listens, he knows, he now can tell
the truth, the way, to vanquish forever, this darkened spell
The message lines his thoughts. The wisdom is his power.
Each distance grows close and near. He is upon the final hour.
Stage's all set, the curtain sprawls, the cast is prepped and true
Our hero lives here internal, reliving all the choices he needs to
Slowly he alters shape, into a hero filled with ire and consumed by rage
and yet, he understands, that if fright should set upon the stage
all will be as well can be, for a society such as this
it's simply a case of dues unpaid, to transform the drama into a comedy
as we know, the world loves a train wreck just as loyally
Over at
D'Verse,
Mary offers us the notion of preparation for this week's
Poetics. Stop on over, read her excellent article and then stop on by each poet's site for their response. Most likely you'll find yourself inspired and prepared, to compose a piece of your own. Once you do, link it up and share it with all the other poets at
D'verse.
