Insane place.
Insane pace.
The kingdom of the beaten down.
Hope rides
a long mortuary train
and Faith lingers
hesitantly
on the threshold.
How much more
could we give
to our sin?
Could we give everything?
Joy is a nation state,
seized and conquered,
or a fool’s proclamation.
Driven to and fro.
Birth, to work, to death.
A prescribed race.
Equality of outcome.
Fate sits,
waiting on the sidelines,
sharing a knowing grin
with all the angels.
Splitting off into a knew life,
is like breaking free
from gravity.
Deciding, in mid-fall
that you would rather
fly
than make impact.
Who could say,
“It is what it is.”?
We know from what it was
that it becomes something else.
Expectations diminished
in the wake
of a wave in the timeline.
So much to do.
So much to see.
Like screaming in a vacuum,
or fighting in a dream.
Struggle and fall?
Or, wake up and fly?
Who knows the code
that gets us past
our final flight?
Rabid day-to-day.
Run the circuit,
get the pay.
Be an hour early
for your plane.
With any luck
the next destination
is sane.
DJR – 2022
