Burst

Burst by Samus-Merid

It’s best described by not considering structure, not painting it up all pretty,
Poetry, or writing what you real feel, or any form of art for that matter,
Because art is a reflection that comes from many places,
But mine is so torn, so vividly wild and erratic, words with boundaries mean little in the face of prices I have paid and justice I have appeased.

Imagine, if it be possible, waking up where on one side of the bed,
Your own shadow awaits, sleepless and transfixed, holding your pains in the off-hand much like a shrunken head,
And bearing wickedly secure the scythe of wrath that whispers your fate,
Like it was a rhyme it couldn’t ever get out of its head, grinning yet never satisfied.

And on the other side, the soldiers and ambassadors clothed in light, an almost fantasy depiction of Gandalf yet not so inhuman,
The bear weapons yes, weapons of use, but not for all the Hollywood effect,
Whispering peace and hope as tears have screamed down my face,
Beckoning calm to the storms that raged beyond strength in all the lands within.

“Choose ye this day whom you will serve…”
I have made my choice, and have walked in the quiet paths so many times,
But it seems, in these days, time stretches beyond itself,
And my paths are the battlefront of a war that has been fought by every hand but my own.

IT MAKES ME CRAZY HOW MUCH MY LIFE MEANS SO MUCH OR NOTHING AT ALL!

The entire room is silent, everyone caught off guard, with little room to move in or out,
Where are humans or pre-spiritual giants left when they are torn between choices that have everlasting consequences?
At what point is hope turned to something solid,
When will it end or begin?

I know what I know, of happiness and sadness; I have walked both those paths,
I scrape the bottom with a knife digging even deeper for fear there is nowhere else to go,
I have little left, except the days full of routine, as little seen effect,
Except that I have faith, I know truth, and there is no where left to hide from that.

And all at once, a battle unfolds in the closed space of my very own home,
As the scythe swings wildly, I see the light grow to its full glory,
Washing away what fears used to hang over me, and pull my heart to despairing paths,
And once more, the light begins to grow inside of me, to help me, once again, begin to be who I am meant to me.