the sacred road


forgotten warmth dissipates from icy fingers
as the steel cut of once-was brutlizes breath.
it is a shard of ever present purpose
as neither stasis nor fludity stymy its obsidian blade.
it tastes of warm summer days
drenched in the bitter clutch of winter –
a time that once held promise
in the weight of ineviability.
but the rose hued vibrancy of perception
now bleeds in merky shades of grey.
and the reality of fallibility and anguish
now rest permanetly on experienced lips.
the pristine prison shatters
as to live
means to fear
to fight
to grieve.
a wisdom that comes saturated in the ashes
of long extinguished flames;
leaving behind this peristent aching
for all that was won
and lost merely in the cusp of being.
days span into interminable moments
as painful inhalations shift
this ever present blade;
leaving behind crimison chilled fingertips
and the knowledge that this…

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