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*Image of Ready to Break by UCA.

Tale of the Halted

'Tis be a day of echo
and with it, the result
preys on the lips to no 
end, the uncontrolled 
tongues hast lain in
plain sight of held shame
and clumsy splits stewing
in a devil's brew.

Fire musters the envious
their claim and precious 
bans a quick ambition
to an embellish sheen,
their feigned embrace 
traces honey as blood 
parts sapped mettle, a
fusion of scraps from 
an enigmatic ex.

Now blesseth truths
burns their brittle fibrous
habitats, for they etch
their soul's in the ashes
and wallow in the vague
ambiguity of last night's
light show and be as much
the reason for claims
that themselves never
hast happened.

Natheless, they'd be none
the grander e'er seen, be
they runaway wanderers,
all unconscious, kinetics
empower their motions
as the fire that bred their
souls, hast petered out.
 
Yet, no need for flames,
as it has been called out, 
'tis duel works in passing,
an uplift streak sparingly
made a dart for life to
unleash its hold and give
the halted birth a soul.

It rives steadily, yanks 
at the skinned that
detains its pledge,
abrupts suddenly, and
sanctioned to live.

Enters the settler, an
embedded phase
replete annals done
sheaths an escape
with a glow so soft
though shields the
inevitable its moral
claim to be realized
and resist the deniers'
reclamation and their
rumored tales that
made their spark
ignite.

2019 September 17

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