Ashes to Dust.

Somewhere is a hallway lined,
by door upon closed-door,
each one leading to,
its own room full of lies,
boxes stacked up four high,
and color coded to the eye,
the naked eye sees right,
and someday, somebody,
will discover this place,
set off an explosive device,
to open up each doorway,
to be told every herein lie,
to be snowed,
to have the wool,
pull back over those eyes,
to be plowed,
mown over,
set on fire,
and then left alone to die,
in this hallway that’s burning,
in this place full of lies,
there’s no escape,
from what we choose,
to believe to be right,
only choice left is to embrace,
the flames,
the blazing light,
as the discoverer renders,
the discovery statement,
ashes are tendered,
before a gathered crowd,
only to be poured,
onto the dirt floor,
to the ground.

Fly.

After all,
so many times,
so much love,
lost on,
this heart of mine;
I’ve seen the light,
I’ve read the lines,
I’ve lost the hope,
I’ve gained insight;
nothing’s quite,
what it should’ve been,
what it was meant to be,
when your life began,
underneath,
the pretext of,
the tragic story,
of your mother’s love,
her broken heart,
her saddest song,
the hoarsened howl,
as it leaves my lungs,
listen,
this song’s for you;
these words written true,
by the mother of you,
the tail spinning blue,
nose-diving,
throttle my womb,
head-on collision,
ran straight into,
my very worst fears,
as each one comes true,
nothing for it,
can’t ignore it,
may as well,
dive willingly into:
the losing battlefield,
my life has come to,
can’t look back,
won’t turn around,
for one last look,
at who,
you’ve grown into,
I’ve primed your wings,
I’ve tried my best,
to maintain your roots;
I’ve stroked your ego,
I’ve broken my back,
I’ve jumped through,
every hoop;
fly, fly
little blue-bird,
fly away,
and don’t fly home,
until you’re true.