April 2nd, 2007

pocket rat


Beautiful, fragile fantasy
Perfectly shaped, looks
exactly as I want it to appear.
Tide is rising
Waves lap at the shore.
The first lick at the foundation
and beauty starts to crumble.
No amount of grabbing
at sand
at water
Prevents collapse.
Beauty gone, chaos reigns
Sand began as stone
Solid ideals backed by cliffs
Worn from foundation by
years of incessant waves
Constant criticism, judgement,
Undermining connections to
what was good, solid, real
Not a fragile fantasy built
desperately from fragments
that tenuously hold together
for brief moments of time.
Conditions must be perfect for
sand castles
Unlike rocks on cliffs, that
withstand so much wear
Sun, wind, waves, water, cold
Even the strongest wear down
after facing the inexorable.
Each wave beating is just one
Unique in size,
taken alone,
easily ignored,
seemingly negligible.
Over eons,
rock to
good for nothing
but walking on
fleeting flights of fancy.
will i ever

Hell's Fire

Heaven sings
Angels soar
I am sand upon the beach
no more
I've passed through the
gates of hell
Poured myself into the
Wracked with pain
my heart's desire
to shape myself
find beauty within
molten mass
brisk cold air
will harden misshapen
Turned with care
Breathed upon
Paddled, pinched, poked
A cherub arises
from the smoke
  • Current Mood
    contemplative contemplative