Sep 29, 2016

Cutting Cords

Every now and then when I'm at the edge,
when I can resurface, I survive a complete 
drown. Drowning in a sea. A sea swarming
with lustful scenes, beautiful scenes, and 
chaotic scenes.

I found myself so far in this seductive tempest.
Where the rhythm was new, the twirls were fun, 
the violence was entertaining. But my hunger was 
a nagging wound, like a homeless beggar.

I didn't recognize how far I went until
I couldn't function. Until my wound didn't 
heal, until my dancing with the wind 
caused my motherboard to fizz. 

In my anguish that the water didn't match
the sky, my guides got me up and reminded 
me how I was caught in his web of thoughts. 
And how a cable of cords from him to
me was created, and was fed through our 
common adventures. 

So innocent they started yet subtly how perverted
they evolved to, with wisdom hung behind every
dead end. 

Now the cords have dropped. Golden sails has
gone up. And now the constant become voluntary. 
Chaos become calm. And I knew grace gave me choice
to drown or float. To be stuck or to be divine. 
The steering wheel became once more mine.

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