Prisoner
The cage is real.
Thoughts create endless circles and dance in your brain like a a firefly hungry for the light.
I absorbed my decay,
And pulled in collective energy of false pride and terror that we feed upon as if our hunger is a destination of the eternal Sun Rise. The process is all that remains.
My eyes have housed too many shrouds of broken glass . . . black prisms lie.
My prison was self-made with the help of my buy-in to the illusion created by collective and ancestral shame.
Flight from the cage remains clear, it is a good day for take off,
not caring where I land.
I jump lightly off the rooftop of the train of destiny,
open my arms wide.
Liftoff feels like Christmas arriving early.
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I look back at the train, and I see it slowly disappear into a river of rainbows gone gray.
Like a magic magnet, I am pulled without delay into my personal galaxy of stars where truth and healing are solid proof I exist.
To swim out of the lie and into myself feels like my private destiny.
This lock box heart has served its time.
Prisons are but temporary Hell brought upon ourselves by investing into sorrows that are not ours.
I keep flying with direct pull into my center of being, and within the reflected light of a damaged Moon see my beauty light the sky.
Prisons are not real.
Prisons are places within the mind.
Prisons are placeholders for shame.
I keep flying.
