TEAR YOUR CHEST OPEN AND GNAW A RIB BONE IF YOU MUST BUT EAT, SURVIVE

CAGED IN TREASON

In my heart

I cry out to hear

the ringing echo of silence,

the thunderous roar of pondering

while wandering

through the vast empty places

without scenery or sights for the lone eye

that sees all of nothing but the shallow wadi

of dryness of heart and mind.

It is so easy to see nothing

in the lush fertile imagination

of minds forever held penned,

captive in zoos of despairing rot

enlightened

only by the ruts

from pacing the old paths

of nothing; from nowhere

to no when and back again.

Oh if only

they were circular and space was limitless

for the starving mind.

Purge, purge the primal desire

to know, to understand,

to be the fountainhead of freedom’s light

but in its stead

stumbling along the way

in directions,

men of social power point you.

Silence,

silence is the journey,

think only on the love of silence,

the thoughts of independence

that desert you

as you walk empty

and extinguished

from following the rutted way

for the thousandth year

from there to here.

Never think of curiosities satisfaction,

it is treason to ordinariness.

© M Durfee

3.19.2014