To Fly.

I feel very uncertain as of late, as though I am no longer in control of my fate as if it is seemingly interwoven with the moment and the date,

Of my demise.

That which is readily available if you peer in between the lines and pick through the infinite truths and fabricated lies that seem to be a mental plight of both you and I.

My dear, oh my dear. 

Are we truly capable of rising above the fear, that which we have clung to for ever so many years but alas, I can no longer live in my shadow, I must shake it clear.

Misery within the vicinity, victory within infinity. 

Yet within a finite form questions lead to more questions rather than answers and that is how it shall be eternal.

For who are you, and more specifically, what is we? A separate or a collective entity shrouded by none other than the mind made ago, which is eating and feeding the obsessive reality.

That will never be full, the hungry ghost that sits within my spirits roots and tree. 

Not a simple demon. This is nothing to dispel. For I am not a cursed man, I create my own Heaven. My own Hell.

Through my actions and my words, I cut a path that brings me atop the highest universal hill. 

Lock eyes with your maker, play pretend until you meet your end, your soul surely will mend yet your body is dust to the wind as your mind bends, are you dead?

Stuck in purgatory until you truly understand the allegory, that in theory is the common element of repeating Human history. 

Will we finally come together and see that within our hearts we were never truly separate, yes, you and me.

I do not live within a fantasy, I am firmly rooted in the abstract basis of this earthen reality, where fact is fiction and simplicity is regarded as a fallacy.

This complicated love. It’s tender and bare. Screeching to the wind, do I truly care?

Do I dare?

To send it to the ends of the farthest shore.

Am I running from myself?

Or is it you, that I am running towards.

Categories Short Story/PoetryTags , , ,

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