I waltz on Wednesdays, willingly to the rhythm in my head.
Wading on Wednesdays, waiting on weekends.
Am I living or just wading?
Wading in the muck of the city. Capitalism called this my destiny.
But this can't be true. It never was true.
I am not defined by the muck and the dark.
My mind is a sacred city, reclaimed by mother nature and overgrowth.
I wade in my lake, clear as clarity.
Water at my waist. I dive in. Wash my hair, cleanse my skin.
My lake overlooks my city of green and vines.
I bloom with the flowers. I want everyone to know this bliss.
Reality isn't in sync with my mind but my city will live.
Slowly, I will transform. I will be the manifestation of my dreams.
I become this and the walls around me will change.
Soon there will be no walls. There will be no limits.
Just tree tops and winding paths that are the veins of the earth.
Just the hawks, like the eyes of Goddess, overlooking the land.
My existence, our existence is more than corrupt laws to abide by.
I am stardust, cosmic energy. We are stardust, cosmic energy,
The light in the soul never goes out even after the body is gone.
We cannot let malevolent energy become our skin
You must die a million deaths to watch your sanctuary grow
How many times must I die before I'm not afraid to live?
Share This Poem