Swimming…
Swimming in a stew of ideals
Mired in the gravy, trained
To obscure the necessities of life
The shirt of my being leave stained
At times I starved while at the feast
At times I was fed too much of the same
Off to go hunting for something that sated
On to keep playing this wild game
Though I could always pick fruit from the nuts
And discern plastic in search for what’s real
But some things seemed better than that which was best
Poison berries buried poison beneath their appeal
Still on a day I can’t see night from day I pray…
To light those paths which lead to light
And burn the bridges that land in death
Let me not confuse a dark night for darkness
Or artificial light for eternal breath
© 2008 J. Marshall