Ever might be the promise of a dream
when in the eyes of a child,
shows prowess is in an archival presence
the nature of what was once, is now
in a jester an unstable posture.
Speak with such is our utmost
need to qualify to have a creative
desire to answer an immediate query
pander a certain backlash
we might never defend, yet feel.
Would that he might scream until
chords of chaotic frenzy do
truly unravel, split apart,
a bleeding waterfall
asphyxiate dying creativity.
There is a solemn melody always plays
when caught in the trappings, our ways.
© Thom Amundsen 11/2020