Elucidating Questions

It’s a flag on a stick and a waving pattern of

I don’t care anymore, no it didn’t matter

If that happened. If it ever happened. Whatever could have happened.

It was so easy to forgive the brevity when it was all I wanted.

So then it became, like if it worked forever and ever,

But it never did.

Can’t find it when there isn’t any, what a foolish title.

Pouring humanity into the pages of heroes creates things that feel pain.

Yours are better than mine, after all, there’s nothing.

I don’t have any words of anything besides dust and rust and pain,

Because that’s all that’s left

Of bronze, after the years of pain have gone by.

I put it out there, something, maybe.

I don’t remember why, but I remember words like thousands of years

Since I had seen

Any spirit.

But it wasn’t there either, and I don’t want it back, it was always so heavy to carry bronze around my neck.

So for a better day the red moon and the wheels spinning,

Trying to work within these tight boundaries that are not like streets, but vices, as the words continue to pour out every day,

The dreams continue to be born because the intentions were known by those who can read it, and even as the sun screams,

This sudden cultural jump that must be, must at some point be soon to move without moving a piece on a board.

Even when the piece is Mars. Some are and should be fought in silence regardless, but this one was not the mistake.

Responsibility is always taken, for the things we control, and of course words come out sharp when related to how long and awful it’s been, this strange competition that weaves its way in.

As if power was the goal, and not the love of the wands.

There is something unanswered, something that will be revealed. Something that others don’t quite understand, is this my piece?

Or someone else’s, except I know where he went, I go there daily.

The beginning of a journey that translates, the joker in the pocket the push of fate, it seems that is the direction he points after all.

The sudden changes that follow, the beginning of a new life, and that’s where he gets lost every time, but that’s what comes.

The bells ringing again and again, happiness and the end to anxieties.

I suppose that would indeed be a good day.

Silent, unseen, pulling of the tarot.