fickle and futile: the human experience.

as the breeze dances through the leaves
to the echoes of the flittering of birds

i look up towards the sun

to bask in its warmth, once again; reminding me of the fire of my soul.

it will burn and rise as strong and high as i let it

yet, for all my efforts,
i am not its master.

a few drops of water is all it takes, to render a passionate flame an ash-covered heap of dirt.

or a bold enough wind to force out the sparks of life within me.

for as much as i let my own ignorance allow myself to believe i am its guardian and protector i know, deep in my heart of hearts,
that i am truly powerless.

fickle and futile: the human experience.

before me, emerges a crossroads

i know where i want to go
i know where i need to go

they are not the same destination.

do i act out of self-pity or accept that the chains of futility are permanent,
so why not throw em over my shoulder and run as far as i can.

i wont run forever but who knows where i’ll end up.

and that’s good enough a reason for me to go.

H.B.A.

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