Sunday, February 19, 2017


Where the limits of this place in which we spend our time
Encumbered by the concrete and the endless paradigm
What limits, that restraint of bonds, when chains of life unlock
How many of the dungeons walls are fictions of the clock
A ray is cast upon the floor from crack within the wall
A color felt, a rhythm seen, sets free enchanting call
Transformation, once again, removes the mortar's hold
To crumble all the shattered walls as sanities unfold
The resolutions that we reach are tales of wit and wag
Intuitions lead to life beyond the broken crag
Look back upon the crumbled walls, surprise at what is wrought
A pile of dust, insights unique, and tales of lessons taught


© 2015 whickwithy

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