On Meeting Joseph Arthur

The numbing frost of life’s uncompromising wind,
The thought of the expectation
Constantly bombarding, like a hail of emotion
Recalling memories, or questions?
All corners deftly scraping along the grain,
How am I supposed to react?
Drawing nearer to each day
With the warm breeze of the razor
Kissing my lips or the roots of my hairs,
I smell a burn,
Discarded flesh?
Or was it my will?
And when I finally met,
The radiant luster of the encounter
Slowly melted away, to my astonishment,
When found with the lack of inner truth or inspiration,
A spark of clarity fell from above.
Not to be characterized as divine intervention
But maybe a mind’s-eye brief-conception of understanding,
Steering me from that which I inflict
Of drowning, inside myself
The absolute abomination-
Self pity, sorrow
Absolution from the laden weight I carry,
My shield of mirror,
Trapping me as a fool to a two way looking glass
Revealing from the inside,
Millions of shattered fragments
And oblivion in indifference,
For all to bear witness
To these twists and turns that I call life,
Thanks to the answer
So simply sown,
To be borne of the surface or death-prone
Like a never rising phoenix,
I drench in the puddle of my own ashes.
Tomorrow will be a better day

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