Stillness, silence, a somber gaze,
Three strands in one accord,
Melancholy utility,
In reflection of the adored.
And when said tenant afforded this state,
Arrives upon our visage,
Ne’er mockery should any relate,
Nor their image should we pillage.
For in but moments shall we be,
Candidates in succession,
By circumstance quite affected,
Thus instigating our reflection.
Let us not have one day pass,
Where such moments are ignored,
Sentiment is built to last,
And weather all the storms.
If we abandon introspection,
No solace shall there be,
No foundation will exist,
To enjoy the memories.

The Constant Shadow

Ascending from the cave,
I spy a shadow of former self.
A marionette without a sound,
Of hope and peace bereft.
And thus begins the shadow’s rise,
Engulfing my firm-footed base.
“Do not look back”, my sullen heart cries,
“And be doomed a pillar of waste.”
And so I shut my eyes,
Letting memory thus replace,
And dare not to dwell upon the past,
That these encounters be met with haste.
But I did see one thing I cannot put away,
A chip upon my shoulder,
That I noticed still remains.
It seems beyond position,
Or stature socially,
I have always felt subject,
And hindered by frailty.
In youth, I feared authority
As authority, I was intense,
As employee, I feared the manager
As manager, I feared impotence.
And thus the cycle continues,
I am constantly afraid.
Over, under, forward, behind,
Unsettled and dismayed.
I must attempt to break,
And shatter this illusion,
That my circumstances decide,
My attitude, is a delusion.