O! Madness of our most maddening day! You come as an unshakable memory sidling up against our ashen skin, howling low your senseless deluge, through bitter sky you plummet to our minds, tattered ruins of time floating face down, floor by floor, beam by beam, soul by soul… The squall, long gone, remains a dust of shattered will standing on the bitter streets of these events, bringing quarrel to honest men in dwindling light. A jagged state split by wealth and power, haves and have mores cackling in wretchedness, hording the air in search of our lungs, floor by floor, beam by beam, soul by soul… Molding a single day into mantra for empire, rattling sabers and beating drums to tyranny’s stride. You crushed them. You still crush them in rigid desire. O! Let this day alone! You must now let it be! Let them rest. Let the embers fade. Let them go! Release this day. Liberate it. Set it free, floor by floor, beam by beam, soul by soul… Copyright © 2006 mrp / thepoetryman The Path to...
(The Weaver's Song)