Standing still

     quiet

     divine

Mind and body, lost in time.

Spaces away; alone; apart;

A larger picture,

                             Closer to heart.

     Falling

     Faster

     Farther

                down.

Lost to sight; feeling; sound;

Chasing away the broken smile

     of a hundred years, from a hundred miles.

Each little step,

     each toe in the dirt,

     echoes louder this feeling of

                                                            hurt.

                             So away you travel

as you know you must,

                             chipping away at this

     strong

                    fractured

                                        crust.

     It’s a thing you have carried;

          a thing you have known;

          a thing that you cling to,

fear of being alone.

                             But the things that are

pressed

          to the back of your mind,

are the things that will

save you;

                             It’s just a matter of time.

So cast off your shadows,

the pain and despair.

         But never pretend

you’re the only one there.

                             The only human being who

                                      graces this earth

who knows of the nightmares and demons and hurt.

         You are not alone in this

harsh, blood-fed world,

         that tethers and batters and punches

and hurls

you finally into the icy blue depths

                       of the oceans below,

Never catching your breath

For the plumes of volcanos

          and the breaking of faults

will come soon enough;

                       No signals of smoke

         can rescue our fate

from the hunters of night that are lying in wait.

         And no digging of moats

‘round our steel castle walls

will keep out the monsters

that threaten our halls.

                       Nor brave men of country

can rescue our souls,

         from the pearly white gates

         or the fiery hole.

A million questions

                       ask how this could be.

To deny such truths from our short history,

         a story where knights and valorous

men can slay mighty dragons

not with swords but with pens.

         And though we’ve not seen them,

         for we came too late,

their stories are carved into great slabs of slate,

         And of course we believe them,

         for how can we not?

We’ve been ingrained with their tales since

we were asleep in our cots.

                       The legends we hear of things

         long unseen fill us with hope,

But beware, they can lead

         to a slippery slope

                  that falls in-between

the truths you can gain and the dreams you will find

         hidden deep behind the faded ink lines.

                       So look, and look closely

            at the dragon slayers and swords.

When, after all they were fighting with words

                  that fall off the pages in long, leafy trails,

along with the remnants of a few dragon scales.

They puncture our hearts and harness our minds,

                       finding at last

                their place in our lives.