Relinquish
power,
cede
control,
abolish
apprehension
of
everything unknown.
Tension
writhes in fear
It’s
leaves wither in despair
over
a coming cloud, that is
told
to be of foreign origin, has been
foretold
to bring the swirling whirls
of
disruption and the wrenching
gusts
of disturbance,
that
distances the warmth above
away
from the barren vacancy
existing
below,
it
provides a commonplace, one unlike
what
most had ever grown accustomed
to
seeing, to breathing in, something so strange
and
wonderful, you ponder it’s meaning, and
amateurishly
chart its probability of having been
created
from heaven or heathen
and
this borderline somehow
offers
a tingling sense of desire,
a
curiosity, an anticipation, an uncanny
combustion
of fire—waylaid in its dormancy
while
all the while impatience shrugs
it’s
vengeful neck, from which the body heats
to
an ungodly burn—painting thoughts, color
and
emotion in an increasingly frantic harness
of
terrible twos at thirty-eight, transforming
the
pleasure of the new, into the jaded askew—
and
so the grey floods the freeway with the oil upon a seemingly gentle feathered
brush.
And
so charcoal dances, always is, dancing in the distance, waiting for the
dry-erase wipe of pleasure. Anticipating
conditioning will coil in the way it always does, and bleak ennui shall once
again fill the ever-combative attention span of the what’s next to break
societal view.
and
it’s in this fledgling composition, where
wisdom
could grow to be unlike anything
we
had ever known. But sadly, patience and
savor
is
not encoded within.
But
the composition accumulates its dust-filled coat,
wearing
it like a badge of honor, understanding it is
but
a statement of the current time, knowing, knowing
that
one day, a hand shall wipe clean the dusty frame,
and
there, in that moment, these eyes will truly see,
the
wonder and importance of what lies beneath.
