Questioning’s Demise
It is about zooming in on the smallest particles of your dreamscape.
–Quelling the butterflies threatening to leave an orange net.
Do you dare turn toward the voice calling from the periphery?
Or, breathe euphoria caught in laughter unheard.
Will love ready to be embraced, be held by no one?
Is it possible to collect all the fragmented shards of glass??
Can the mirror be made whole again, and if so, where does the courage to look reside?
Behind its windows, frantically banging for air, a soul cries for freedom.
Who will be its messiah, and raise the floodgates for its release?
Where are the empty urns ready to collect it and share it with their brothers?
The creaking earth warns a fence that its end is near…
Those who straddle will be forced to act on their will…
Or, be acted upon by gravity, which will not be defied.
Finding bottom may be a journey in itself, yet it consumes all who choose it.
–Gnawing slowly on those who show no resistance.
Death is an act put on my many, but, in it there is no reward.
With unquestioning loyalty to Lord Should, Lady Ought
And, blinders hindering minds stuck on mute, walking restlessly in monotony.
Is it not the same circle deeply grooved by footsteps of yesterday?
–The same gray that painted the twilight and the dawn?
Where is the peace promised by the noise of war?
Was it not bargained and paid for with the blood of warriors, and tears of tribes…
Whose circles are left opened like a gaping wound unhealed?
Did it not leave poisoned minds festering in communities we do not know?
Yet are bound to with each inhale, sunrise, and starlit sky?
Color is left in small pixels on screens empty of imagination.
Fingers run cold with the lack of creativity to paint life anew.
Faces hollowed of hope, of faith, of desire are ashes soon to be swept under the rug.
Who will remember when the mind was the mouth-piece of the soul?
And, when emotion was stirred by each brushstroke on the canvas of life?

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