The sun remained still, it was I who crafted a path for spirit to flow outward, life to flow inward, remain, and hold fast her delicious concoction of dream.
Why have I taken up the dream and soured its indelible wish?
Who has given me permission to crash my fetid thoughts into Heaven?
What must I imagine it is for me to set her Love free that she might dance joyfully beneath the breathing sun?
When will my alarms finally awaken my child and send it out in search of my better self? Tomorrow? Tomorrow’s tomorrow? Tomorrow’s broken line of tomorrow’s, with my hands outstretched begging for another chance at tomorrow?
The line is bereft with my soiled smiles that haven’t given their joy over to themselves, I still hold the documentation of my enslavement, the shackles that cut into the skin of my hope are like steady reminders to rise with the sun and do the work of the thankless Man, capital “M” man, not the idleness of the diminutive, small “m” man.
No. The courage found in slavery is not visible until the whole brandishes the key to my singular prison, my filthy cell squatting nearest to the Hell designed by the capital M, to lock away the diminutive “m” that have forgotten who and where I am. If I chose, I could fly through the bars, break through the steel melded by fear and dipped in the coals of futility, but remember, I am weak. Yes. I am weak, because I actually believe I'm trapped, yet I alone hold my escape as least precious. So what if I show up in time for my own funeral, at least I took action and ran alongside Love in a race to the finish.
Let me evolve with truth nearest my goals.
Let me evolve with gladness within my heart.
Let me evolve with goodness piercing my steel ideas.
Let me evolve with Love riding ahead to clear my way.
Let me evolve with my affections holding the dear children.
Let me evolve with my stewardship held in the likeness of Love.
Let me evolve.
© 2011 by mark prime
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