spiritual language poetry & writings

a mamaist I-sight

 

 

Star vehicle keeps rolling on, enjoying new
Freedoms with double vision opening up the past
And seeing violence through the eyes of a child, how
It takes the world by storm, irreversibly, like a sky
Falling, shaking–deeply and thoroughly—the pillars
Of one’s future all the way down to the ground.
Can the pieces be put back together again? Is the fallout
Like a looming catastrophe that you feel from head to toe,
Which you can’t come out from under, like a shadow, unless
Paradox’s vital presence (or is it wishful thinking?)
Has its part to play, until when feeling freer to speak
(As well as to act) the words needed to be said get your
Wheels turning, and with the familiar now new, you
See beyond the horrors to where cash is flowing on
Unlimited credit, to where the bottom line’s ultimate
Way of doing business (hyping this shaky terrain?)
Is the story of your life without you, the toll paid
For the troubled waters the road of excess has led you through,
Though with room–like a loop–to move back
(And on) as you roll upward into the eye of the storm.

 

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