One more transition;

A moment to reflect,

a moment to collect all the ongoing

travesties we live in earnest.

Never again to be perceived as the

conscience; now to be played out

by the ignorant.

Not that ignorance can’t be healed;

you can’t heal the weary, while

misunderstanding the prejudice.

A rolling stone will lose no mass

rolling along it’s padded course.

The scenery will, however change

wildly around it, but it is seemingly

controlled.

A funnel’s effect- a collection of all

that is on top feeding to the bottom

the quickest way out, while what’s

necessary is steadily being replaced

by what’s stationary, or stagnant.

“All in due time.”

Father time seems to echo from

a not too distant future, this time

which feels like an utterly

ridiculous test of the signals we’ve

received.

All our emotions seem in check:

desires, needs, and expectations,

yet it’s the patience I’ve found I’m

collecting none of.

Ooooh, how I wish anyone could

value the souls locked within two bars.

On a page as puresque as the place

all thought seems to stem from.

My words now seem like graffiti.

I now know it’s the intense fervor of

their release that makes them a

masterpiece.

In a theater of disjoint images,

disconnected freedoms, it’s become

the will of my nature. A nature

uncovered only if you criticize

yourself hard enough to find it.

A soul can never be trapped. When

you’ve got a pen and this here road

map.