The Box
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The Box
I lept out from the box
then promptly thereafter,
I sensed the bearing of iron,
flick flit arrested eyes to study,
imagined it be journey's end,
'twas a lit past to ponder
an encrypted life lived.
~0~
A stained-glass existence,
purposed distractions drafted into
some colorful repose upon a natural light
of prominent finery crafty guise while the setting
laced by topics of truth that cast a shade
like its lonesome hue that borders
it as an unembellished sin.
~0~
My instructors of contempt,
homework that imbued through ink
also, gratuitous blood, now seeps and fleets
in pulsative actions of the veinuous tracked memory,
via recalls unlike inanimate vehicles of value
but, a faint twist of wishing it dead,
matured soul am I--learned.
~0~
True love's,
known by passion,
and death.
~0~
Hence, I am confidently tethered
to the box, open to stray anew experiences
that enthusiastically entertains in future's promises,
as society embraces harmony in measured sweet spoonfuls,
naught to indulge, but be indebted to fine attributes
that lives exemplary for an aged somebody
naught sit but rise above the box.
~0~
In times end
my soul depart
earth to return
inside a box.
2020 October 27
*1st Place*
COMPLETELY YOUR CHOICE(38) any theme any form
~~Brian Strand
*7th Place*
Inward Reflections
~~Chantelle Anne Cooke
Copyright © Hilo Poet | Year Posted 2020
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