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Poem
What do I do, my soul inquires, abandoned in the shadow of the moment,
When the call to move forward is incessantly declared wrong.
My options are as hazy as dreams shattered at the dawn of day,
My inner sight – a lamp in the depths of a cave of the unknown.
What can I do, when choices gather like leaves on the branch of time?
And resolve, a perpetual ice statue in the marketplace of my fate,
Twists like a stream in the underbrush - will it find its way to the sea?
Or remain a forgotten river, transformed into an irreparable abyss?
Can the seasons melt back, to when they were the minions of the sun,
When every path was open, and a smile was not yet a foreign gesture?
The dilemma gnaws at me, yet at the same time, my mirror has no face,
Not just scratched or bruised, but pierced through, a ship without wind, left to drift.
I am not the shipwreck I expected to crash into,
Yet my heart wonders, why does the first kiss of pain always know its name?
Am I a fallen spirit speaking in tongues of mud, that must suffer?
Or am I woven to live in this perpetual twilight of pain that won't be silent?
Do I actually invite this abyssal drama into my play?
Do I delight in sudden, furious leaps, in the lash of persecution?
Clearly, I should raise myself high, upon the throne of deeds,
Even though I ask myself, with fear, do I truly deserve to receive this crown?
I feel as though the sun has set, but my heart still offers scalding love.
I feel as though I should be lucid, yet in my fists hide too many embers.
You will never realize how heavy unspoken words can be,
Until you see others trampling over them, crushing what can no longer be restored.
Will I be the Dark Knight rising from a sea of the ash of time?
Or will I be the buffoon, severed from the halo of favors, eclipsed by the tired joke?
Stay close, and I will bear witness, in this tale when the pendulum hides within the fog.
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