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.
a different tone than my other poems, however, enjoy
