In Wait

Sometimes, my thoughts arent mad, just dissapointed.

IN WAIT

 

There are devils that lie,

Metaphysical or metaphorically still.

It may be the rivers of slap-dash religion,

The truly agnostic Christian,

Or the cloven hoof Jew,

That allows them provisions,

And room by the spit.

 

There are angels that watch,

With flesh as your own.

Who cry as you cry,

Who cannot see the throne.

 

There are colors that paint our world,

Spilling from the very top,

Of ziggurats,

 Held in place by,

Myth and what if.

 

You can easily see the righteous paths,

But they are opaque and unwilling,

To show to you the true intersections filled,

With grief and temptation.

 

Bear traps of vanity, Quick-sands of insanity,

Flytraps so large with porshe candy tonges.

Doe eyes and naive bodies of the strong willed and young.

 

Walk with your mind,

For automaton feet will lead you into a mannequins dreams.

A stoic reality with a stallions blinders.

One place with one sky,

Where nothing is new.

 

What do we desire past,

Knowing where were going when were closing our eyes?

I like the decisiveness of Socrates.

There is heaven or dark rest for the righteous,

And everyone loves a good night’s sleep.

 

But then, philosophers are - but unsure theologians.

 

Lost within a myriad of planes,

Shattered glass which may actually be sugar.

Objects that may be closer than they appear.

One is - truly lost.

 

This is saddening,

But if you close your eyes during a scary movie,

You can never truly boast that you endured.