The door is slowly opening
I can hear the hinges creaking
As it is forced to move.
What pagan wind invades
The solace of this silent chamber
To move what has grown stationary
In the effort to hold back
The machinations that are
Fluttering like brazen banners
On the brightly gilded lances
Of the mavens of decay
           ljm

when you pause
and ponder,
it's utterly extraordinary
that you are
alive;
out of the billions
you survived,
you are far
from ordinary,
what will propel
you to thrive?

Sometimes it's harder to forgive myself than others.

I smile,
             but I don’t mean it
I cry,
             but you don’t see it
if time
             is what’s at stake
our lives
             are slowly fleeting
         –
you–
swat your hands through the web of our plans

you and I are not connected
         we are,
              strangers again
–
so what do you believe
are you still innocent to think–
that your lock is still genuine
that it'll work with my key?