Poet13's Blog

In a moral panic over failure to launch

The unspoken given voice at long last angrily sabotages its now captive audience

Delivers an ultimatum:

You will stop, you will listen, you will heed

Or you will perish

Not dramatically in a spontaneous unilateral nuclear implosion

But hereafter day by day slowly but surely

A little bit at a time

As time runs out

Till the surplus you’ve stored is drained away

And the measures you’ve taken are taken away

And the fears you’ve fought gain the upper hand

And falling you remember the helping hands you’ve let go

 

                      Your fall is your fault

                      Your fate is your fault

                      Your lot is your life

 

Your landing site is a prison of your own making

You are the master builder of your own temple of doom

All the gloom you’ve generated now descends

A foggy shroud covers your landscape like a blanket you’ve thrown over your head

To hide from the boogeyman

This beast of your own creation

The anger you set free to challenge your god

Returns as compassion with a message just for you:

 

                       You are the god you question

                       You are the god you curse

                       You are the god unworshiped and forsaken

 

Your faith succumbed to a terrible will that will not stop

Your life is a machine you have set in motion and cannot turn off

The further you go the more you see that you’ve seen before

Used scenery glides past your limited vision

Like a circular mural describing an enclosed carousel  

Your life is a carnival cavalcade

A calliope cacophony that soothes and comforts and distracts and entertains

 

Eventually you will come to an end of something

The ride will stop the sound will cease the sensations shrivel

And in the terrifying gift of silence will you hear?

Can you stop feeling long enough to know?

Can you close your eyes and see clearly the clarity you cloak in living color

to camouflage the meaning of your life?