Dividing Line

Bright lights, flames in motion. Arms weighted with emotion, as each carries their burdensome torch. Lit alleyways, littered by mayhem, breached by commonsense. Is it too late to chase scintillating dreams, to rid the streets of the beast? The mantra had captivated mouths and memes, seemed the broad path was in, was easy. No one understood, the following was satisfying, it had treats, whistles and bells. Pavlov would ring, ice cream was melting; drips and dollars, indecisiveness. The public fell for it. Hypnotic, sliding into each scenario like colorforms placed; placemats, paid off. The scent of incense scorching the silver lining, anger the prayers of the masses who had never knelt to the unknown God, only to reason and revery. Oh yes, they dipped into psychedelics, thrilled by curt and coarse language, and irreverent motion of the tall man. Like any gang, with any spark of disloyalty, you’re out, you’re beat - tread marks identify you as the enemy. No one notices because each member’s given rose-colored glasses. The storm of hail, thunder, lightening, frightening but ineffective to disturb the disturbed. Torches light the streets, attempt peace, only propaganda distressed. Occasionally, one pulls away from Frankenstein’s monster when the light lands on the truth. Proof. Glass house shatters. Gutter full of bottles; hands through grates. Dividing line. Blue sky and bluebirds above the fray; fearless patriots.