Dividing the thrills of breathing new form
To thought and feeling are black-veiled moments
When, like the soldier scraping his belly
On the claws of a nameless hill, the stark
Meaninglessness of human endeavor
Burns the eyes with the bleak insanity
Of response to misguided stimuli.
These moments, when helping hands are wishes,
When friendships mutate into transactions
Long filed and forgotten, grip you with chills,
With fear that you will never leave that hill,
That what you believed was life was nothing
More than a mirage of smiles, a handful
Of pixie dust on which you built your dream.
Artwork: FANTASY SKY MOUNTAIN SILHOUETTE
© Melissa M. Morris | Dreamstime.com