Peace, serenity;
a lonely stage
surrounded by and
saturated with
so much
infant rage.

I claim a clarity
of this, my salient mind,
while clinging patiently
to the obedient,
but blind.

Their choices
need not the attention of
madness;
my eyes meet theirs;
I see the rays
of damp cold light,
the brown earth,
life’s catacombs thus created,
the stolid, expressionless
faces that disguise
the only windows
to those souls;

That close
the only window
to mine.

The future arrives
and is realized;
Peace, serenity.
Things I would like to see
apart from this clinging mind,
so salient, but purportedly,
blind.

Blind to the destination of
an endless path
on which we travel,
opining miseries
to the friendly,
trying not to portray
the weakness;

staying encouraged,
alive.

The mental tide
swings a restless shroud;
the purported clarity,
now clearly defined.
The room and dampening light
cast images afresh
upon this once
blind mind.

I’ll surrender that mind
to the freedom
that takes in all
these mental catacombs,
and whisk my Self to other
great witness stands
to gleam a gallant
smile at the
masses,
I’ll take
the stage of peace,
serenity,
and gleam that
gallant smile
out into that
forever aging
rage.