.
     Our stance strong,
     our conviction -
     unwavering,
     brandishing knives
     with blunt tips.

                           But our hearts fail
                           to acknowledge
                           the shallow
                           and feeble breaths
                           that hide behind
                           cracked ribs.

Like blood slowly
ballooning into a tiny orb
from a pin *****.

It simply swelled
and bulged…

As it clung precariously
upon the tip of my nib.

A slight tremble,
almost a hesitation -
seemingly afraid to take
the leap of faith.
Afraid to take the plunge,
only to wilfully break
the expanse of blank parchment.
Afraid to taint the whiteness
with the ruthlessness
of indelible black.

We played with words
and peddled euphemisms,
as we hid behind veils.

We had reality
twisted and bent.
We chided and spat
into the winds
of coercing gales.

Take me to the swan-graced waters...
Where dragonflies would visit,
and skim the surface on tireless wings.

I’d sit with the grounds’ keepers
- the cicadas.
Invisible guardians,
whose shrill song and calls
would only echo through the sparse foliage
and trees - entrancing me into a state of
accompanied aloneness.

A calming solitude,
that enables the eyes
to lapse into a deep,
unjudging gaze into the lake.

And as time slows to a halt,
each breath would lengthen...
The sun would dip into the distant edge
of the lake.
And my heart would skip
as it interprets the dance of the sun
on the water.