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Posted on 04/02/2011


In the midst of a multitude of emotions, or in the stillness of none, the impulse to move forward is almost wild:

In active trance
Seeing the ghosts of pasts, swirling,
Intimidating dreams so livid,
Bloke upturns sands of time,
Clobbering the skeletons.

Disillusioned by one’s own judgment about things, the only sentiment one trusts is change:

Hurricane blows over self,
Overshadows his bodice of judgment,
He hurls this cloak away,
Shunning layers of assumptions,
Hopes, everything but himself.

Being taken advantage of, isn’t pitiable, it’s disgraceful. The most important realization is the awareness of being responsible for your own life:

Sun beams over his naked avatar,
Scared, but more ashamed he was,
Of his caped past,
With calmed labor as his only shroud,
He goes places.