singed by acute crossroads
        we are marooned through indecision-
pulling our weight
        trying to lighten the load

we bare it as does the earth
        and the sun lying on its cot
ready to fall beneath the resting place
        the coal of the hearth, warm in rage

our reflections are true in its image
        everything is a mirror
if you are willing to accept what you see.
        our weight falls from pinning

beneath that hibernating skyline
        as the sun turns it's red steel cheek.
the chains binding us to our burdens
        fall with that sleeping illuminator

pulling us to the ground, the dirt
         turned to mud with our spit,
the slime of creation in the eyes
         of the god we have failed.

only once our tounges rest with the rocks
        as the sun does with its cot,
may we (in our eyes) look up to the creator,
        and ask him to break our chain.