Standing now,
Within the stands...
...So out of touch,
And like a fan,
But far removed,
And overtook...
By my expanding view
I’ve seen
These tiny lines and lingering
Hooks
That so remarkably
Exist as if
To sweep us up,
Like with the dust,
Into a shining pan
Of trust.
Now noticing the swollen
Glands...
...Hunched,
At odd ends...
These blueprint plans
That now, unrolled
Go on for days,
Though, as for sense,
We’re left betrayed,
But at a glimpse
They seem to push
Fulfillment
That hides in the nooks.
If you can’t claim
A grasp, or trace
Of who you are
There comes a race
That fast appears,
As you hang back,
Becoming one
With walls of black.
©
2019
4/12/19
Bunny Villaire