hides
It Lives
(image from elle.com)
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Ignorance
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Wasted portions of misunderstood and ignored knowledge
held for ransom, like a secret never told,
Stealthily gaining momentum
from its gravity turned stale, and time lapsed in hiding.
Soon sheethed in the murky shadows,
lurking in the zone of the unknown,
Waiting.
Wanting to free, but hopelessly shackled,
a hostage whose only solace is reveling in a newfound medium,
Somewhere between complacency and torment,
it gathers rapacious auric silt and slime,
Like the ghost of thoughts put to rest,
And stories never told,
Burgeoning.
It plays possum in the night,
only to keep a watchful eye
upon the Earth.
Devotion and loyalty to reticence
is its only oxygen in the struggle for freedom,
Befriended only by the sound---HUSH!
And speak, but only for the rebirth of itself,
At its core, once long ago, enlightenment, metamorphosed into
a haunting, churlish, savage scowl.
Rude.
Ignorance
is the tortured spirit of all things
misunderstood, held in secrecy,
the words and thoughts of the wolves
who walk with brazen ostenatiousness
in the sheep's hide.
07/29/2013
1:31 am
©
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