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Brutal Awakening (Parcival)
 

Adrift and unsecured; is this freedom, or a soul lost?
Without bonds to bring home the heart,
yearning grows at brutal cost.
The unseen, the unknown, the whispers start,
thus drawing forth the lonely.

Blindly, this way and that the seeker will cast,
asserting a psuedo independence
arrogantly rejecting the past
balancing card-like, with hardened stance
yet no supporting base.

Flimsy and easily destroyed, yet bravely reclaiming youth,
stiff and defiant, blinkered sight
hardened against the truth
before the cold winds, on wingless flight
fixated on new fortune.

Ah the shock when suddenly comes the blow,
to rend the fragile maverick
from top to toe.
Surely blindness was a heartless trick
to cast upon the helpless.

Crashing, bleeding, in a torn and shattered mound,
from which, painstakingly must
the pieces each be found.
Singly and excruciatingly in perfect trust
to repair the ruined.

Such the result, when the adventurer abandons care,
fools themselves that all they need
must be elsewhere
and to their folly, pays no heed
to that which is near.

Brashly sets their focus to the far
and there stubbornly trys to see
a dream without a star.
After all, not so strong, nor free
when the knife cuts deep.

Aching and scarred, the brutally awakened dreamer
carefully sifts the bloodied earth.
Painfully repairs, scrubs cleaner,
then meekly settles by the hearth
and knows, this is love.

Never the same, equilibrium harshly thrown,
the heart which once yearned
to freely roam
accepts the hard lessons learned
and rests : safe and warm , at home.

Anji Alexander 07 /06 /2003