Slides and Stairways

Somewhere in the pretty petty imaginary illusion of delusion There lies a truth an edifice of search between obtuse confusion Windows like brick walls and concrete blocks birthing the light Nails to be nailed screws to be screwed with monumental sight A life a building fortress sand castle beach hut nutter’s dream Maybe a prison with towers barbed wire fences mindful scream Some multi storied paradise no choke on apple’s stem or core No passion fruit in torture chambers shackles behind and to the fore No hidden attic and no cellar no stellar fantasy no quick descent For now simply one dimension deserted plain hopes to ferment Scraping no skies a cave hovel card board box a bombed out grave Nothing to hold onto no graces left spent and ravished naught to save Is it magic thought provoked delusion of illusion alluded distortion Who knows does it matter I suppose it does in incomplete reapportion Some are born in a manger on the fields of labour some with a silver spoon Surely some would rather have foundations a ceiling not some lonely moon Get me not wrong as singing the praises of romantic poverty and dearth Icy cold and freezing bones do not bear up to sound safe privilege in birth Yet from the scraping nib and luxury of pen in hand and philosophic mind Not wishing to lack compassion nor cementing over cracks so misaligned We are the builders of our lives to some extent despite the vagaries so vast Can we find a staircase upwards some sliding pole to reach out for the past In such compassion regardless of painful structures and abandoned need Is some notion some motion of change and nourishment star dust to feed In God we trust nihilism architecture Karma fate Nirvana hard core grind? No valid answers but questions loving search for quiet mindfulness in kind