Humility’s song-
can be a night of certain execution.
The air is laden with voices,
numbly hysterical,
familiar,
indistinguishable from any era.
Sentences might have shifted slightly, to compliment
today’s gilded lies.
Yet the weight of this fine collection,
these found speeches of precious cutlery
cannot hold.
And as the burden of our language,
boils and festers under rational lenses,
we can no longer afford our
bloated artillery of monologues.
And so it may go,
that as a chandelier,
unhinged and impatient
implodes and dives
at a hostile foundation,
our fraudulent declarations,
disguised as chatoyant gems
scatter,
in shame.
Then,
a wild scurry to tuck away
and hide
and hold
and hide.
Are you here?
Yes.
Well alright,
let’s try this again.
Instead of being caught in
our steady version of barbed wire,
let’s try a fresh song,
one
of curious alyssums,
shared.
...
And let’s sway,
widely,
as the most amicable of willows,
in bemused silent fields.
With
nothing
in
mind.
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