Castle gate to tree – part of the 7th traveller

Distorted faces, fueled by Bacchus light, pass in pointless fury.

No sense or reason for this gathering grim,

for stretching maleness, showing no fear, and reveling in that of others.

Down to the river and back to the day, as badges herd puffed up youth

from the settled fields of ordinary folk, who in pens of safer times

despise and envy the distant remains of what once they were.

On the plain or parked in some other place,

a daring now disabled,

locked away, but bubbling under

though generally loosing water,

new thoughts of change are marred by patterns, predicted styles

inescapable.

Beauty found in structure, never sought

when marveling at chaos.

Bright chaos in non-specific panoramas

flittering,

shivering,

dead.

He censors plagiaristic tendencies

ignoring the pleasures of sameness, whilst copying from a lesser form,

not quite wrong, but futile.

Denial.

He sees the end

and gasps –

penitent reflections on all that came before,

to join the game

and play it well

there is greatness to be humble.

But angry voices pierce his thoughts and take him home to devil

raise his heart in rabble lost, of childish spring and wager

cannot progress or make his mends,

trapped between within the tempest.

One choice only can be made

the fluid or the brick.

But lonely water will stagnate

and bricks are built of madness

all is one or nothing lost

and all goes on regardless.

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One response to “Castle gate to tree – part of the 7th traveller”

  1. slpmartin says :

    Such an interesting story and imagery…rather enjoyed it.

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