tough herald
The shower was running, my hair all soaked;
I gazed upon the mirror and near choked.
O prithee, perchance break this glass and flee—
I gasped; it spoke to me as in the past.
Time raced apace, like carts in hurried play;
I fled, thinking freedom near at hand.
Yet the reflection spake no more that day,
For I perceived ’twas naught but fantasy’s strand.
O, vulnerable am I? Or hath mine soul
Not realized I was made the fool?
Cupid hath struck me with his careless arrow;
Prithee, Cupid, know I am no puppet on a stool.
Strings thou didst manipulate in chord,
I realized thou wert but bored;
Not fallen into deep emotions’ tide,
Yet I was played, a pawn in slow motion.
Mine soul doth no longer wish to play the fool;
The eyes of truth have struck me with their spade.
I now possess the knowledge I am no rebel,
And so I let thee go, like light escaping a tunnel.
- Come forth and walk with me through this path of discovery
hidden vortex
pastel escarp