I carry it well
this weight of mine.
My boots dig in,
and I trudge forward,
as I travel through these endless plains of time.

Golden Roses, up to their necks in red
From the rays of, Mid-Day Sun.
as he sits,
laughing overhead.
They fall victim to my weight.

I yield,

to passing serpents, rattlers on their ends,
alone on a dusty trail.

I stop at a rock,
balanced upon another,
a perfect equilibrium.
Achieved in a state
of quintessential delirium.
I remove the pack from my back.
Ease these callused shoulders,

a dangerous embrace,
from this mid-day sun.
The heat becomes a temporary weight to carry on.
Carabineers gripping tight;
to things I’d rather leave behind.

Let them rest on the neighbor’s lawn,
forgotten cells, lying on the rocks of a riverbed.
Let them rot in the broken complex,
****** away in an indigo vortex.
Let them slip between the floorboards,
of a weathered porch.
Rage blind eyes make way for a deafening silence.
The time has come,
empty that pack
and carry on into the setting sun.