Strive

though ludicrous the fortunate way around the storm may be the violent mannerism found inside the calm beneath the skin behind the eyes along the quiet spine that swims just like the candlelight which burns around midnight when all those imaginary creatures we’ve come to fear arise so that the reality which inevitably will do us in appears jeopardized like a lone gunman without bullets like an archer without arrows like a slash without flowing blood like impending death without a sparrow fluttering pausing on a fencepost just the beginning of the darkness just the beginning of the rain just the beginning of the lightening just the beginning of the pain where the corner seems to have comfort where the shadows keep in light like the vibrance of a cat’s eyes keeping clarity through the rite with sparks of sullen extravagance with secrets never told with matches struck to light the fuse with rivers flowing cold stones pebbles sticks sand debris vomiting down the way with predators standing on the banks nodding gratefully at their prey with rambles becoming feats of legend with legends proclaiming lies with liars becoming emperors with emperors setting fire to all that could have come upon a different way to flee the agony that we all strive for in the depths of our wildest dreams.