Freedom…Just another word for nothing left to lose.
As the season’s merge…
I cannot help but think of how it is with us.
The inherited panic and fear.
The constant need to disappear.
Just when a trail has been laid…
Just as time has been weighed…
Our over shadowed life becomes displayed.
And, with that knowledge,
we continue to bear the fruit.
An oath to a world of soiled roots.
It is an overcast day.
Guess, sometimes it has to be that way.
Civilized words for a shut book.
Theology has yet to devise a means in which to get you…
off the hook.
No matter how much I scour my mind…
with the salts of the earth…
The winds of change have not stopped.
They take comfort in the calm before the storm.
Yet, they are never completely gone.
And, so the story goes,
some hostages are held by fear and dread.
Others by a custom-made bed.