Fables and Revelations

He stands across a bowl of open sea gazing across the sea of time endlessly. The beach crawls away from his feet eroding into the silent sea. He holds his heart like a child with a pink balloon frightened of it being lost in flight. His life a mess of pick-up sticks and scattered views. He hides behind his looking glass and looks back at me wondering if there is anything beyond his life of fragile lines. His music woven into a mess of scribbles and mismatch lines, of sorrow, of anger and an endless wall of pain. His mirror speaks with reverence of his mistakes and his shame and his doubt. He’s hands stain with the soil and mud of his earth, and all he touches turns to dust. A lover of the earth but a poison to his land. His love a parasite, his beauty a curse and soul, a victim in a looking glass.

Can someone tell me now a way out of this? Sometimes I feel like the only one standing in the dark. How can you tell me that I am the only one, the only one standing up to the fury before me. When will I learn from the many touches of the flame. The bridges falling around and tearing away from me. What was I trying to achieve? What was I trying to build? A house of cards caught up in the embrace of the monstrosity of the wind? The child can feel me still, yet can’t see what one leaves behind, blinded by the house of cards. No one is ready for the damage that the papercuts lay, but to a child it’s all just play.