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…
Painlessly
