Points of responsibility taken, assumed
For want of no other willing to be that
One who stands, to whom the questions
Are laid as unto the rays of dank stars.
Trials like that of singular shoulders
Weighed down upon by personal
Merit, individual integrity, those points
Of our struggles more than identifiers.
That so many see curiousity instead
Of what we hold to valour, our honour
Ignored for blaise social commitments
To an ideal that we long ago disavowed.
What was idly grown to cover the tension
Ever present for long years, exacerbated
By treatments, cures for chronic ailments
That are alleviations in shifting balance
Compared to wishful final measures.
With time’s passage realisation comes
That there is no cure, that this grown
Thing makes it new, a synergy more
Than form or weight may attest to for
Fulfilment of our true selves; alive in
Blazing towards a blood rusted copper sun
Neath the paling thick skies, disc of days
Risen from the shadows of night shines
Grand and bright, like a nuclear winter
Whence we harnessed the stars.
Cloud cover of Autumnal days lies
As a filter between the land and sky,
Sojourns kept separate from sand
Try spirits of the mundane humans
To reach, extend to the heavens.
Misfits of mad society fringes unite
In strange ways, after individual trials
That we existed through, survived
Without necessarily knowing, unaware
Of adversity faced and broken, barriers
Suggestions made earn a maker more
Than they might have bargained for
In moments hazy with ideas only, genuine
Expressions met by mutual feeling, discovery
Realised after the fact, act, taken further.
In measures past those original plans lie
The fulfilment of stranger wonders, found
Like edible diamonds amongst the desert,
Nourishing like nothing else mayst be;
Fiery in ways we knew not before.
Crazy calls clamour distractingly for
Details or just to distract from what
Has roamed, still this mind is filled
With calmness, no points offered
Now to assuage those calls asking
For more than is their allowance.
Numbly resides this finger upon my hand,
No tingles nor sparkles light up the nerves,
Dead inside and they wonder where lies
The feeling, the sensations, now numbly
I made the choice and sensory darkness
Rules this fingertip, the tingles spreading
Back from beyond a periphery of experience
Down the arm, into the hand, bright pain