As I sit here and play with blame
It's as though I'm pulling logic from the flame
With a narrowed lens, I absorb the fumes
Capturing reason from the ash that looms
I presume his guilt continues to strike
And his regrets thirst to ignite that strife
But it's that lingering habit that continues to last
That smolders the future and blurs the past
Across the room, his stance was fair
His pupils wide but hardly aware
The air was stale, the undercurrent rough
My thoughts the waters, raging toward the bluff
Innocently, I compound thoughts I owe a ponder
Vaguely I stare as my thoughts wander:
Maybe it's not who began before the beginner,
Maybe it's more about who wounded the sinner
Epiphany unveiled, the match was fed
He felt the burn, and turned to red
"It just ain't so," his stiff retort
With gas soaked sticks to build his fort
(Thinking)
Fire is an element agreeing with the laws Knowing is a truth without any flaws, Understanding is knowing without the pause-It's impossible to deny a mechanism of cause
Stiff and fit, I blew past his whip
As he spewed his misplaced, yet signature quips
Confused with the misfire,
For I am at one with his smoke,
Engaging puffs, he was assuming I woke
The flux of his mind sharply flicked my state
As his careless notion took over his fate
“Give up the blame; it will be freeing"
He persuaded me to doubt—my very being
With the buck in my hands and nowhere to go
Instinct took over to soften the blow
It was then and there I got carried away
Emotions ran deep, with judgment astray
Pissed to no end, I flicked that grit,
I flicked it straight in, in to his festering wit
Knocked him down, pinned that blame
Then watched as his fort went up in flames
His espionage, his shelter—all collapsed
Yet regret was there after time had passed
With a pliable mind, never holding truths tight
I thought to myself: Damn, maybe he was right
Reality is the allusion one attempts to catch, Thinking: the flame is what lights the match; But maybe it's not so black and white, Maybe there is more gray in the fight
Reality is a moment I try to observe...
And that's the exact moment reality curves
It's the wrist that flicks the match,
As the elements light and seem to attach
I watched my feet as I took a strong step...
Concerned myself with the motionless depth
I jerked to look up and saw him there,
And thought in the end; damn it's fair
That glorious flame brought that match to life
Mutually aware, the burning was rife
With eyes of glass, I watched the pain flee
As it smoldered in to a scattered debris
Another puzzle was left unsolved
Nothing matters unless I've evolved
My tears roll, drowning out the flame
I'm stuck...
I'm stuck in this perpetual question game
About the Creator
Brooke Gallagher
Business by day, philosophy by night.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.