These knotted guts
eject my pulsating heart,
while I wait for my welfare
to imminently crumble–
I’m lunging from my vessel.

I frantically survey for danger,
but the culprits remain covert–
I turn up empty on my basis.

But failing to subside, I wonder…
do the wires of my diagnosis
wrap me in incessant neurosis?
Or has conditioning to trauma
trained my brain to fear?

Regardless I remain engulfed
by this looming devastation,
and my neck constantly aches
from looking over my shoulder.

I feel forgotten,
I feel lost,
I feel the rotten,
Burning cost
I had to pay
When I lost faith
In the rock
That held me still.
Blade pierced my bones,
My foe reproached
Dailily unto me
“Where is thy god?
Why cast ye down?
What of disquiet in the?”
Atop the sands
Lean on my hands
And begin my ascent to the surface.
“A valid question,
My soul, my friend.
I suppose I lost my purpose.”

The frogs of the forest
Are seldom silent.

Their croaking resonates,
Moving the air like liquid.

Other animals are forced
To listen to the tiny tyrants.

One of the frogs hesitates
Before saying,

The frogs of the forest
Are seldom silent.

The scent of sin
Is ripe in man,
Yet the vision isn’t there.
The scent of sin
Rains burning sand
Yet the sinner fails to care.
The scent of sin
Consumes the land
For at nothing does it halt.
The scent of sin
Is spread by hand
For they build top pillars of salt.

How can emptiness be so heavy?

Brick
        By
            Brick
A house is built
Hour
        By
            Hour
The house becomes a home
Day
        By
            Day
The home turns into memories
Year
        By
            Year
The memories turn into people
Century
        By
            Century
The people turn into stories
Story
        By
            Story
Stories turn into legends
Legend
        After
            Legend
History is changed
Piece
        By
            Piece
Lives are changed
Person
        By
            Person
Love is spread
One Love
        After
            Another
Bricks are purchased
That build houses
That turn into homes
That create memories
That turn into people
That turn into stories
That turn into legends
That change history
And it all started with
Just. One. Brick.

When alone
It drifts silently to the dust
When joined
It soars through violent wind gusts

When alone
It is frail, and if pressured, will break
When together
Not one will you easily take

When alone
It is considered extremely light
When connected
They carry an eagle in flight

When alone
A feather is still a unique and beautiful thing
But when united
They transform into a stunning, powerful wing