A coterie becomes a mess
Torn to pieces
Torn to shreds
Because the weight of the world becomes a loss for words
And it is like being stuck inside a fire that cannot be tamed
And someone is looking to ride the smoke rings right out
Brothers and sisters turn cold in the smoke
Inhaling the coals
Releasing the bitterness
Blowing it to the side
It sears the eyes of the people who watch
And they wonder, “When are they coming home?”
Well, what is it?
What fixes the cracks of a broken life?
And what if it was not broken in the first place?
What if riding on the back of the smoke rings is not the elucidation?
Refusal is preferred
Let minds turn in another direction
It is a danger to obscure genuinity behind a mask
For the price of lies can be inordinate
An insecure mind is yet to be understood
It is still given power
It is still torturous
It can drive some worn soul into a fog
But the Lord did speak beauty
Beauty more valuable than many sparrows
The breaking is done by our own hands
Emptiness is that result
The void can be filled…