Be relied upon
I would still
Try to stand strong
And if I fell
And those who are my kith and kin
Let me fall, rudderless
I believe I would still
Try to stand once more
This attending effort was not
Born to me
I was a slothful child
Idolent in summertime, slow to come home
Engrossed in the token more than press of life
Missing meaning within magpie’s shiny locket
I may blame a lack of moral structure
But it was ever my way to remain hollow, we are vessels of sound
The rod or the wild, we choose in our forming
I chose the willow path overgrown by neglect
You, it was you, years hence
Bending with an acrobats supple spine
Taught me purpose and value from your own pain
Late and much too past, still never entirely lost
On even the laziest soul, truth can take hold
I thought I knew truth
Until I learned to listen truly
I thought I knew loyalty
Until I witnessed real mercy
It was as if I had ever not, known a thing
And wiped clear of experience
Began anew, shivering in dawn without wrapping
I couldn’t see then, the other shore
Or how
Waves are measured in metric pulse, known to moon
I walked among prophets blind
And only saw my own, sorry reflection
I bled and believed myself insightful
When the blood was void of rust
You see, it takes rhat meterlurgic alchemy
To disipher ourselves and then, once seeing, cross that wasteland
I believed my intuition when I only saw shadows
No crucible of real direction I walked without legs, on the back of dry twigs
Until, woven with deception, snap, the pasture denied me
Even the position of desicated scarecrow
For I was just an approximate, empty inside, tredding fallow
Without hunger or thirst, nourishment naught
Nobody to stand as sign post
If I couldn’t
Get up from my knees, though they were made of lead
And discover the dream, still in embryonic state
That has been here all along, put away, almost forgotten
For we are, born to dream
Not to linger in collapse but
Leap graceful without weight
The chains imposed, released to fall
Cleanly from their imprisonment
Shackles are no natural state, prisoners of ourselves
Each of us has, a measurement of myth
Wings to fly and imagine if
We let go of shame and doubt
Those habits cast around us in woe
Lift, lift, oh that we could
Find the fabric beneath the world
And swim in unisen to its music
If I couldn’t
I would not still be here
Trying to prove we are always
More than we fear