Change of plans, changing direction, disillusionment, end of batte, end of journey, fear of success, life, making it, other's expectations, poem, poems, poetry, Start-Over, success, tainted, travel, victory, weariness
It’s finally the truth
The Rubicon’s been waded
The die’s left my palm
The horse has nosed cross the line
And the hour was upon us
Not but a minute ago
When corks of champagne
Shot out like Evil Knievel
The roar of the masses
Reaches my ear percussion
In the encore of an echo
And I am forced awake
Pulled out from the cover of hope’s dark night
Thrust into the blinding dawn of a plane’s open door
I am here now in this purgatory of Wonka-like proportions
Where poor boys get the chocolate and the flying elevator
All the coffee stained smiles belie
The rising peaks of their aspirations
Their greedy grasping of my jacket fringes
Clamoring against my iron covered bones
And what does a handshake signify?
Why so much concern for a pat on my back?
Too many tombs were dug by unspoken treaties
And pits fallen into when eyes lifted from the path
And after so many moments spent
So many long tear-filled dreamless eves
Too many lonely days falling into weeks
Too many comfortless missing of marks
How can I shift with an automatic engine,
How can I exchange sword for laurels,
How can I lay down my battered shield,
How do I inhale into asbestos filled lungs?
Did I ever really want this victory
Or was I pushed onto the track
By those who couldn’t run a mile
They who lost their stamina for the fight?
What guarantees my stay in the land of fairies,
Is there anyone who can reserve a lifetime table
And if so, wouldn’t I tire of the Italian cuisine?
Did I ever really want to get off that plane,
Was I just in the sky for a pleasure ride?
Couldn’t I purchase a return ticket from my seat,
Is there any need to cross that platform at all, or
Is the finish line just a starting point?