The Palace of the Middle
Life gives to each a whisper of her medium,
A plastered palace, on which to post all dreams.
A shared air, to pause each hungered reach;
In praise of steps, accomplishing by each.
A rouse of sympathies, for the melancholy few;
Who test their fortunes with the best, as many do..
Allowing a power to close the door, to every madness come.
With weightless dreams of dreams that overcome
Each hurried mind bemoaned in kind and sum
With fractures turning palaces to slum.
Left behind, as though one might be freed.
When thou art all there is, for every need.
Emptying all footsteps into sand,
To ends that cannot be, whatever planned.
Cracks remain, from those who dictate malice
Graffiti gifted to the plastered palace.
The place that is the middle of all things.
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