for help blowing through the pain?
At your lowest, you sometimes make choices
that pause the pain
even when you know it is
palliative
like a pause button
a dam holding back what will never
be avoided.
The time inevitably comes
when the bandaid is ripped off
when the cracks overcome the
barricade
When life before
consisted of absorbing what was,
and the solution which filled the world
is no longer soluble
there is a dryness
a desert
instead of a heart
cartography is a joke
I cannot build a tower
out of sticky bandages
there is no foundation there
I have
no
foundation
I pretend well,
at times
but soul shatter is to your bones
and when bone
is shattered
the ability to stand becomes
colossal
a herculean effort
So I want to pray
to the gods of wind
which is ethereal
which flows
which carries
which cannot be seen
what do I pray, though?
what do I ask for?
I cannot ask for the past to be
wafted away
like a burned and ashen mistake
perhaps
my quest
is for wind to tear me down
grain by grain
and build a new tower
more power than a dune
a form created by the wind of
loss
the erosion from tears
the shrewdness of deposition
you need to stop, grow, do...
alcoves
bridges
yardangs and ventrifacts...
yardang |
ventrifact |
words that sound like buildings from the future
creations that are counterinuitive
top heavy
craggy
that's me. That's what I
NEED to be
created by wind
odd, illogical,
beautiful in its confusing
substitution for expectations
Bring me
The Wind.
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