Emotives rest- Pallbearers' know our names

The time of paranoia has passed

Because we have realized

The red bug truly is in our mind.

Hints of premonition

Become Eclipsed

By the blue light in the sky.

We used to believe

How our feet tread on the floor

Predicted the future of passing seasons.

But, if in our waking,

After peaceful dreams,

A violent, or disturbing notion,

Intercedes those pre-dawn emotions;

We must admit the derision is forced upon us

By outside forces.

People live their lives mostly,

Without distraction of

The cracks in pavement,

Or, slope of street.

But if warning comes with first light,

So does the inclination to

Rush out of bed into the churning,

Compulsive reaches of reality

That intersect with calming visions.

A tree we climb, blown about

By vicious winds, will give us

Enough trimmed and stout branches

To reach the top, if the tree-trimmer

Grants us those conclusive rungs.

We shape our own destiny only

If the world let's us slip by.

Unnoticed, unannounced;

Weary, yet able to continue.

If it is such, we are the eye of the hurricane;

Then let it be known, though it is calm,

We dare not step outward from that tentative,

Protective circle.

For in the lashes, so unforgiving,

We can be removed in a blink,

And rubbed away by a hand unseen,

And uncommitted to our reason for lasting.

Humanity only ignores the downtrodden

If they are completely erased

By the victors, the bullies, the eradicators

Of this history we became a part of

At birth, and could only escape from

If we never tried to be remembered.

High winds all day. High winds all night.

I thought my heart was breaking

But it was you, dreaming of someone else,

And waking next to me.