Child's Play

The ball lies unmoving on sand, resisting the low wind
The bicycle rests beside the tangled swing
Last look at fading twilight, beyond now empty ground

I was there with them all, squealing just as hard
Grasping at the ball, while all others did
Waiting for the swing, while the ball lay still

With all now gone, taking cue from the sun
Will they talk of me? Did they see me play?
When I ran away, did they want me to stay?

Alone again, or was it so always?
Did they say goodbye? Was my wave just wasted?
As I lay down to rest, I cannot help but wonder
If I do not wake from my rest, would they feel my absence?
Is it as they claim? Is it all just child’s play?

Sand

What use are doors
With no walls around
None locked in
None held off

Memories are held
For things that are past
Answers delivered
When questions are asked

If what you hold is unbreakable
Then break, it will not
If what I hold is invisible
Then exists, it does not

Foolish are these footprints
That meandered too far
Marred the fine sand
Split the shores in half

Shackled

Shattered my daze, the gavel was struck
Scattered Convictions, aspirations undone
Gasp of a windowless cage, the door has been shut
Incredulous denial, is it not me who has won?

I lash out at a fate of my own doing
Bound to my destiny, by my own chain
I am my own judge, my scruples, my jury
Why do I still play this losing game?

The shackles that sometimes hold me are there because I put them there.
I want them. I question them. I hate them. I need them.
There is a reason why everything is where it is.
Or maybe I shall never step out of my bubble.

Phases of life when I am more contemplative than frivolous, so often brought on by pleasant but painful triggers, have me hunting for the spirits that torment my soul.
None fully understands the workings of another’s mind, another’s life. And yet we nod - Do you understand? Yes I do.
The ordered anarchy continues…