The swing, moves unaided
Back and forth,
Forth and back,
Where children played,
Fun was there only worry of the day,
But the rain fell, and play no more,
The spinning wheel a tangled mess,
Twisted,
Distorted,
Jagged,
Metal blooded dry in the sun,
A place of fun,
Now of silence, only the rain falls
Then there is fear in others eyes
Craters left where each one ruptured,
Where each one fell
It destroyed the fun as
Twisted metal,
Earth runs red,
Laughter now screams,
The fun is at an end,
Hiding from the noises
Seeing things not meant to be seen,
The swing, moves unaided
Back and forth,
Forth and back,
The rain fell near by,
Pushing the swing,
That the children no longer use any more.

Collective breath catches in the stalls,
slumber fails to take its place in time.
A fall from place to chaos
leaves all the world wanting for a reason;
for direction in the midst of this waning
of the reigning control of the conductor.
Such a careful composition,
to hold a position to be one of them.
And yet, mere moments gather a chorus;
a cacophony of freedom
of being
to crack away the chaining,
the tiniest twinkle of the cage door a jar -
such liberty.
And the fight waits in the wings.
But oh this fluid reality,
a magnificent rainbow,
a glistening roaring waterfall
a melody sung sweet of its own accord.
The conductor listens
and breath catches in the stalls.