The Lovely Will Depart (Upon the Wings of Our Own Terms)
I am dissolving. I am no longer violence.
The shapes I take sweep across the ruptured Earth,
Rising with a thousand misting arms,
Swelling with each pulse;
The rhythmic pulse beneath all things.
I am deconstructing. I release the pieces as they fall.
The inverse shadow, innate being - he who needs no voice,
For in silence I am heard.
Fading, it may seem to you;
Though further you could not be from truth.
(Do you not notice those who exist beyond your games?
Do you still bend inside your tiny home, when you could step outside the walls?
What sort of game would it be, without the essence that allows you within it?
Have you convinced yourself the door remains locked to you?)
I am expanding. I have long since raised my eyes.
I dismiss the glut of your conceited terms,
Your arms will pass right through me;
Reassess your existence, oh fortunate brother,
You have capacity enough to yet discover -
The lovely will depart, whilst your finger rides the trigger,
Meaning disappears, behind the walls of gold and treasure.
The statues of our history, cut such a lonely figure;
When acceptance of the greatest ruse, has become our guide and measure.