EATING THE LOTUS.

I have a hope, so very dear
I feel it beat within my chest
Yet sad is solitudes cry
Not alone but seemingly
There is a hope, a hope for better things.

Always the dream – out there
Cautionary tale so stale
Out into the ether we must tread.

There some dreams
Born like gods this night
They live and lie like all the rest
Just shadows of remembrance
Of a thought once thought.

So who is the chameleon
The assassin we always knew
Now in the darkest hour
Silence echoes, rings in ears
But there is no sound
No ephemeral understanding
Just like the paper flange
We float to where we always were.

A date is not measure of time
Minutes no cage to hold you down
Within the quiescent hour
We bury our dead and call up our futures
To hold our hands – to make our stands.

And though you feel, you’ve been here before
Somehow the feelings moved on
The smile, the tear never feel the same
Like dust they settle to similar shapes
But underneath are we sure we recognise.

Take a look at what you read
How can it represent what you know
Knowledge is isolated, experience solitude
Hiding in separate realities
Afraid to share the darkness
We cry for tears we couldn’t cry
Holding our hands for what could never be.

And so we rise unrefreshed to lie upon the wheel.

GRUM