Every day
we struggle
through
the same old spiral.
Trying to be,
but not quite
finding a way.
Get a grip,
then it slips
on the next stage.
It’s like chrysalis
that doesn’t change a thing;
we don’t gain our wings,
we are the same as ever.
As if at some
crucial moment,
we lose our concentration;
regressing back to nothing.
But we were all born
to be something;
weren’t we?
Why else would we aspire
to the sky?
It shouldn’t be
this fucking hard
to break free
of this insanity.
I am one,
one in the many,
many disappointed,
disappointed people,
people of the garden,
garden of creation,
creation a token,
token of this problem,
problem begs an answer,
answer begs a problem,
problem begs an answer,
answer doesn’t satisfy.
Crawling out of another lie
and broken promise.
We were told the world
would be different
with our sacrifice,
but there is no measure
for the lust and for the faithless,
driven to make us
slaves to their avarice .
Maybe I’m the wrong one?
Maybe I’m not strong enough?
Maybe I won’t make it?
Maybe I’m not good enough;
to see the light
again.
Climb.
Fight.
Taste of the struggles
behind me.
Past is crumbling,
I
make
my future one day at a time.
Choices,
have led to experience
voices.
Am I sure I’m hearing this
clearly;
there’s only one way
clear of the spiral
that is a circle,
locked in the square,
hemmed in by angles,
held down by one sky,
four walls
and one skull.
It’s all invented,
so all we see is fences.
None of this was real before.
What is the purpose
of all these creations,
if not to stop some powerful one.
One meaning you.
One meaning me.
What if we were free
of these goddamned spirals?
HG – 2017
