Bed-Ridden Flight

When nothing stops our world from spinning
Faster than the ordained track allows
The ants atop the stable hill are shaken
Down, deep beneath a darkened space
The hours mediate between years and seconds
The countdown loses all sense of control
The lights ahead morph into a hue of nothingness
Mortal hope is shattered from deep within a dwindling nest
The words we use are shifted backwards
As expanding galaxies rush to vill the void
The love we possess is proven faulty
As heroes revel in their taste for blood
The course cannot be corrected while in conflict
So life’s essence leaks onto a grimy sponge
All roads that we encounter have implications
All movement alludes to our reflective destiny
The Earth asked Atlas for a break
And we lost our orbit in the commotion
The weeping clouds set the mood from above
Our vision is focused on doors that remain locked
Maturity and growth locate a contradiction
While we watch as people turn purple
Sainthood begins to mask adultery
As innocent children fail to realize hard-fought goals
A life without life or a circuit to be wired?
A dream with no wake or a death to begin birth?
A game with no victor or a shoe with no sock?
A sky with no blue or a moon with no face?
Truth tightens the moistened leather belt around our necks
As the world we share slips off the gallows
The purposeful laughter of a mourning clown rings with pride
As our morning recalls the night when everything crumbled away
There is one last voyage to be heralded
There is one last taste to be driven sour
We must concentrate on the view of abandonment
We must demonstrate the lost knack of apathy

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