What May Come
Not everything is as it seems.
And no one is ever truly happy here,
Mostly because we're told to dump our dreams.
But no one ever addresses our needy fears.
Somehow, we've been handed the end of the rope;
Left alone to make the muddied waters crystal clear.
In the midst of all the chaos we cope,
By seeking out the comfort amidst the pain
Looking into the things that should instill hope.
What is hope, and the reality that it stains -
For anyone can see that it exists not.
Shed a tear as you watch goodness wane.
Instead, it is gratification sought
Within a world that can't make up its mind.
Instant, fleeting, with it, lost souls are bought.
Where is the path? Through what does it wind?
Curving here, breaking past the man-made walls,
Descending until the broken spirit is all one finds.
From all directions the way wards path seems to call
Not caring who the confusion leads astray
And then stepping back so as not to take the fall.
Yet the path carries on, blindly leading the foray
And everyone allows it one more fleeting move.
Blindly groping for the invisible handhold that's taken away.
When will the awakening arrive, making us prove
That we are more than simple mindless machines
Trying desperately to avoid the looks that disapprove.
Why must we carry on, strapped to a ride that careens,
Tossing us, throwing us like some rag doll in a child’s hand?
Shouldn’t there be more to this macabre scene?
Eyes open, I see all of this. Eyes closed I weep and demand -
Is this the way we had our world originally planned?
Copyright © Skye Tandy | Year Posted 2014
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