This is the push,
this is the pull,
caught in the revolution.
Revolving doorways
passed over
the burdened magnificent.
There were no adulations
in the coliseum,
only hungry eyes
and deadly cares.
Hyperbole,
the selfless, truant victim
stood in place of God
and every one of us.
I was an old airplane.
I was once lost at sea.
I held my breath,
I took a step
into the other world.
Not sure I came back sane,
or even came back at all.
I’m in a way,
planning escape,
but here for the long haul.
Cast your lot
with the significant,
but it’s the relegated,
the notes that aren’t played
that make the song.
Strip down to your
very skin
and feel the fingertips
draw out your inner self.
I ran away from home
when I was a little child,
lost in the mountains.
Came back changed
a little bitter,
a little wiser,
because no one came looking for me.
This was my soliloquy.
My chance to save the world.
-HG
