burning the past to make room for the future.

Lately I wander the hours
I examine the means of the clock
dissecting the minutes that breed
researching the method they tock.

(When idle chatter, hardly matters,
seconds prick like pins,
into a heart that would not start,
more kindling for my sins.)

Dancing around the bonfire
I feed the pyre with scenes
the burning is strong, blazing the wrong
torching my vanities dream.

The memories of a lost cause
who finally learned how to breathe
an endless trial, a gauntlet mile
where even shadows grieve.

(Please endure, I have no cure
yet listen to a voice
it's so distinct, is it instinct
that strangled every choice?)

Lately I wander the halls
while holding my head in my hands
corridor's dark, dead and gone
to the time that I don't understand.

I mimic the hands of the clock
and the six o'clock shadow I chase
while collecting the crimes of my past
to ignite, then combust and erase.

To arise to the challenge to face
my reflection with valor and grace.