Falling In and Out of Line

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