Needle Hole Escapes

How does it feel to look,

But never see past the dark?

Often forgotten…

But children marvel at color,

Movement,

Perception,

Not knowing control mongers await them,

Famished gluttons who relish

Those obviating consciousness.

The innocent some…

Risk pain,

While too few discover

Healing takes more than a poultice

Applied to a wound.

One’s mind and heart

Discover beyond mere hearing

And viewing.

Contrived storms find purchase everywhere,

Disallow the senses their calling to heal.

How simple it can be

For humans to honor one’s eyelids

To fend off tearful suffering from contrived storms,

Fueled by vengeful oxygen

Programed to destroy

Our eloquent sensorial gift,

The always present discovery of truth,

Or not.

Risk awaits

Perhaps muddied,

But nevertheless

Always at the ready.

Actuality’s hardened muscles

Know well how to discern banality from profundity.

How courageous

Those willing to risk,

Knowing to cower

Is to embrace that unsafe place of ignorance

Where wanton indulgence

Creates anesthetized existence,

The constricted shedding of colorless tears

Purged from one’s needle holes of escape.