Quarter to Four

Listen to the sound of souls
Slowly floating down,
A vast autumnal gravity
Draws us to the ground…
We land within a well of words
Where strangest allies meet:
A many headed Hydra
Using you and I for feet.
Here, we all march, paralyzed,
By a smug atonal laugh
That’s rolling off the silver tongue
Of a golden calf.
He’s selling us a story
Of a forward that leads back:
Back into a recess
In a corner in a brain
Where able bodied humans choose
To wear the mark of Cain.

See oily wings, slick glistening
In the slowly choking dusk,
Stripped of the flight and magic sight
That made it what it was:
An eagle bends its shaven head
Towards the gilded sword
And reaches out a withered claw
To grasp its next reward.
One angry eye has been removed;
Transplanted to a pyramid
That mocks the symbol of itself,
And all it ever claims it did.
An eye that peers at every one
But only sees the dark;
A light that will blind every thing
Except the human heart.

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TK Essex

Author: TK Essex

Singer/songwriter, instrument maker, father, massage therapist and (hopefully) a poet 🙂

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