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Sunday, September 25, 2011

THE FLOOD

When the morning Sun bakes my eyes awake
I do not know what this day will bring.
Still, I cherish every moment
of this unpromised, uncompromised life.
I rise day after day like a ritual since
not living life is also a form of death.
The paralysis of analysis
can cripple or empower.
What you do when you choose to
know the ledge is crucial.
I choose to live unbound in the water
rather than feast on mental slavery
in the burning wastes of life.
I long to sleep on a pillow of winds
and not the thorny brush of memories.
I will do what I must to get by with devotions.
Not of gods or false masters, just my free will.
Guiding me straight and real as ever.
And continue to hope someone hears
my whispered pleas of “what if, this time.”
I will not play Apollo’s lyre of woe
or feel the chariot lash on upon my back.
As I toil on this coil braced for fire,
I push the bloody pen along the page.
Trying to reason with the deaf,
blind, yet wise ghosts of history.
Until exhaustion sets in again
and I greet my friend the Moon
with cooling shades.

"drowning in an ocean to find my soul...."

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