Created like clear running water
Either joining up to marry a greater body
Or going still and murky in marshy mires.
Designed to age like a spider,
Which is to say well
But with a web that tells a story.
My tongue intentionally sits
Uncomfortably in its fractured saddle
Amidst broken teeth and words
Not yet sharpened.
Destined to wrestle with myself
And the one strand of DNA
That must be made of razor wire.
The anthem of the damned
Cries out loudly
“Freedom!”
Freedom to wander
And freedom to ponder
Freedom of choice and care of consequence.
Is freedom the best desire to have?
Not better to serve a good master
Than serve only myself?
I answer this question
In the negative to find I am
A bird that would fly
But grounded by weighty bones,
Having not had the lead yet hollowed out
By painful but saving tools.
By design I am the battlefield
Between Hells Hallowed Howl
And Heavens Terrible Goodness.
Both at times whispering,
Both at times shouthing,
And both at all times
Vying for my soul.
By design I trust in Goodness
Though it does not shimmer
Though it dances less entrancingly,
For its promise to pull out razor wire
And extract lead from my bones.
Though the Howl dances beautifully
Shines brilliantly and sings convincingly,
How to trust something
That only promises my desires
As though there is nothing greater?
By design,
Is a question I can not answer.
– Vagabond Prophet
– Thanks @josy57 for prompting me with “By Design.”
Vagabond Prophet 