Post-Ritual Decline

 

Escape is only a delusion.

Fabric of what was reality

hangs off of our bones

in torn strips,

and wisps,

hinting at who we thought we were.

 

So quick to compensate.

Born relevant,

but losing pace,

laughing out our sole denial.

 

So hard to come back into this

each time it comes around.

A solar ritual that only dies at night.

 

It seems easier

to believe in something

otherworldly

when this world

starts to lose what defined it.

 

Dissembling with all these

holy visions.

Light at our backs

casts our shadows forward.

Insane only in the minute.

Later we will see

there was nothing we now call

“Sane”.

 

Slowly turn around

and see,

the changes are only

skin deep.

A mask

over every scene.

We close our eyes

and escape

from these.

 

Broken and disappointed.

I know,

it’s easy to be one

of the disenchanted

when all the hosts are wearing

all the best expressions.

 

The party’s getting started.

Just be thankful you’re invited.

Something’s lurking in the shadows

and we’re trying to ignore it.

 

Moving

seems like a wise choice,

but where

is this world

would be safe?

 

Close your eyes,

we are in

the lunar ritual

and face

what comes to you.

 

Travelling

is good medicine

for the soul,

but escape

is only a delusion.

 

 

HG – 2022

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