It is easy when darkness seeps into the space, heavy and thick, to fall in to a space of quiet reprieve. Envelop the body with pillows to soften the blow of that impending fall down.
Oh, to be in that space. To shut out the sludge now careening down the road like a flash flood of torture and assaults. Replace harsh florescents and magnifying glasses with fireflies and telescopes.
How glorious a thought, to shutter out the never ending cycles of expectant hardships. But when we recognize that these hardships come tied with passions our bodies will sink further into the pillows.
And when those hardships come knocking at the door we will hold down the fort. We will battle from sunken castles, watch steeds chase through the lands. Throw iron and metallic shards towards those that wish to break through. Challenge the stories sung by the bards.
It may be dark down here, down in our pillows. The way forward may be over some fallen jenga pieces. Bodies may be ailed and hearts may be heavy. But this time this battle is not against ourselves, but against the world that wishes to destroy our soft fort.
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PoetryA collection of poetry across ages, moments, and confusion. Tw - read at own desire
