Weeping Willow

A world so bright.  A world fading.

A time of highs.  A time of lows.

Chaos encircling.  Chaos goes unnoticed.

Am I the only one to realize this doomsday penance?

All we do is lie.

We lie on our beds; always alone, maybe together, perhaps with another’s arms encircled around our own lonely bodies. 

We lie to each other, we lie to ourselves.

We lie to the world, to authority, to the curious, knowing children.

And we hide from the sorrow pouring, seeping from the clouds above.

Can you feel the earth moving below your feet?  Can you feel it?

The earth moves in slow waves, but as time quickens its pace, the slow waves have turned violent. 

I feel it; So here I stand, scared of what the future brings, scared of the present, grasping for the past, shaking with the fury buried within thousands.

Move, we must move. Listen, open and listen. Peel away the painted facade of a world that does not pay for ignorance and your still voice.

You turn your head, away from the oncoming disaster of days draped in dark.

Away, only concerned with our own life and unfolding story, stuck in a fog of hallucinations.

And you run, around and around you go as the world unravels behind your heels.

The water bleeds over the edge, into the space of night and stars.

Fetch boy, like a dog on his hands and knees.

Crumble like a wall built so tall. Look. Watch. Understand. Forget. Repeat.

Can you feel the poison burning through your veins? 

Can you feel it bubbling to your mouth as you lie to yourself, to me, to our fragile, tired world?

Don't listen for the quake of oncoming change.

This world has gone flat like the light of crystal ships and the strong wolves howling, crying to their white guardian, suspended high in time. 

It cries for the terrible pain beholden upon us all, finally disappearing below the horizon of earth meeting sun, and leaving us amidst gray ashes floating placidly from the sky above to the ground surrounding us. 

And the gray ashes of all the untold secrets rains over the land of fading evergreen, over you.

Wash your hands clean of any lingering remorse.