Blos

But I am lost is a sea of noise, a cacophony of sinking sadness. The vapors penetrate the air and enter my nostrils, infect my brain, paralyze what thoughts might germinate the blossom. I am fearful, only of myself. My audience greets me with silence. There is a brutal battle blowing among the fickle mass that leads meek men to bleak impasse.

I feel the tentacles of life grow meaty. They stretch out and suffocate the last of my breathing, the last bit of life I harbor within me. The powers that be dictate from the heaven above like thunderous claps on fair morning dove. And I stand in awe, nay in shame, of what I did not do to save the day. What I could have been if I had willed it, a hero of men, a lord among many: a man who does not shake when his time is called but rises when challenges meet, never a place where young boys find themselves weak. It is not a time to think or pry, but a time to act and say whats on my heart, not my mind, let gruesome death take those reasons of mine, so that I may pour out the fragrance of a soul run deep, unfurl a glorious ray upon heavens red cheek.

What is honest anymore? Where can I be when I don’t know the mine that is me?