How Broken Men Begin Again
There's a time to chase the world,
and a time for the world to chase you...
the distinction between destiny and damnation
can become ambiguous as a dream
on the edge of twilight
when the world is watching you ruthlessly,
hungering for your nude heart,
restless to weigh and rent
the miracle of your madness,
the jinx of creative genius
that throws you into unabashed brilliance,
and you realize the pounce of primal persecution
which defies defunct delusion spawning
a paranoid perfection in your life's progression,
In a special, spontaneous moment
you experience the grand epiphany
that you have become the forbidden art
of a sweet blooming impromptu
spiritual ritual,
and the roiling world eagerly puts it's lips
upon your apocalypse of sudden spirit eruption,
you smile and cry for the reason why
your patina innocence has died
leaving a husk of bloody humor
which bequeaths an armor hammered
by instincts of iron and studded
with bolts of steel tears...
On that chosen morning
you rise with an electric strength
yet seem fragile as baby feathers,
and you understand unequivocally
that golden ore is gained
from within the aged mountain,
a fissured face reveals ancient veins
of pure soul,
a geography of psychology provides testimony
of terrific thunderheads in your hellbent eyes
the geology of a million years
moistens skin weathered
by undeniable endurance,
your brain complains not
of the scalding emotional rain
nor your heart of the commonplace cuts
of maddening acquiescence,
that's ok
because you were born to walk into the storm
to take divine form from the hot lightning
that bestows enlightening feeling,
Long mile therapy
is the heresy of your new lunatic odyssey,
you exit the familiar arena
as society screams apostasy, apostasy,
hypocrisy and hostility
fail to halt the salt rub
on your sensitive skin,
trophies and thorns
you throw over your shoulders
as goodbye grooms the grind
of a fearless wanderlust,
Yeah, you're a little lost
Yeah, you're a big ghost,
Yeah the cost is gross
as you travel across the continent,
to be brave is a beautiful thing
and it don't come free,
you pay in your exotic coin,
you pay with exquisite pain,
fuel ain't cheap
and neither is your love for life,
you go on and on
one gamble after another
and you reap and reap
leap and leap you go,
casinos and hotels
foretell the homeless hell
that you've chosen,
will Providence forgive the empty purse
of your starburst curse,
the road goes on
from town to town
yet your crown remains
as you fall down to trampled ground,
on a sleek beach you're found
half dead and half happy,
yeah, there's a melody in you
but you don't know what to do,
the law gets you into a shelter
but mercy feels more like mortality,
Hey, you're alive today,
a rose has risen amid the downtrodden -
Justin A. Bordner 2022
Copyright © Justin Bordner | Year Posted 2022
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