Cave

In One Grand Moment,

When shadows disperse at last,

We’ll tire of the puppet show,

It’s predictable syntax.

In the day of pride’s last stand,

When exhaustion reins supreme.

We’ll realize we were all another,

With no opposing teams.

Shocked to know the caves we lived,

Were never worth our tears.

They were never worth our heart’s desire,

Nor any of our fears.

Shackles weren’t worth our hopelessness,

They were never worth our breaths.

They were never worth our slaving,

Indeed, not even worth our deaths.

Marching past the puppeteers,

Piercing hatred they insight,

Skipping past accomplices,

Manipulating light.

Our delightment, thus increasing,

Their vileness, thus persists.

We won’t gain one precious moment,

To stop and shake a fist.

The light will be first blinding,

Painfully shedding lies.

Gradually. Eternally.

We’ll at last adjust our eyes.

Insecurity and haughtiness,

Good for not but the abyss.

We’ll blink and cry and run and play,

And forever, relearn bliss.

In One Grand Moment awakened,

To that we do not know.

Come now, let us at last depart,

The damnable shadow-puppet show.