Staring through the flames
of my inner fire
smoke filling the dark echo chamber of my soul
where whispered words
emerge as a desperate scream
What is truth?
This eerie place
without birdsong or dew
what is truth?
Slowly the heavens open
like a giant peach bursting
exposing a new dimension
torn apart like a repentant saint
rending his garments
frustrated in defeat to God’s grace
This pitiful last stand
of self-righteousness
vanquished, destroyed
Falsehood – like dross
burnt into a fine powder
blown away
by that eternal whirlwind
of revolving dust
A sandstorm to the masses
blinding what little vision they possess
deluded – beyond hope
For they did not reach in or reach out
to the almighty creator
who will cut my silk thread
where I will float above the trees
like a lost child’s baloon
looking down upon my body
Finally free – finally home…
Urban Dandy London 