Up, Up and All Around

Then crashing in pieces on the ground

Yesterday I soared,

Flew oh so high,

Blasted free across the sky,

Awed by my own altitude,

Believing my delusions

Ignoring proven conclusions,

Despite the joy of breathtaking rush,

I understand now so well,

Going high is never free,

And I’ll scorch and burn,

When flight will fail,

And I will inevitably fall,

Because I’m fated to fall,

Yet gentle can be a settling down,

From a beautiful creative flight,

Instead of rage by tiniest slight,

Instead of quiet debilitation,

My rages; utter devastation,

The sinking wounds mostly just me,

And I’m cured and calmed in sleep’s respite,

But now I’ve gone up far too high,

Forgetting rage too likes to fly,

Seething, blood red, and blind,

Thundering roar of derangement,

An asylum would then be appropriate,

Unearthly swirling senseless spectacle,

Rage do not you dare be witnessed,

By my precious cherished & loved,

Wounds could be ripped open,

Gaping tears that do not heal,

Innocence is pitifully broken,

Dignity lies in tattered shreds,

Esteem, crushed and ground,

Oh treacherous unpredictable Rage,

She leaves nothing unscathed,

And strikes quick as lightening,

Coiled like a snake bent on striking,

I cannot contain her once engaged,

Hide her deep in the soundless dark,

That way not to trigger a spark,

Lay Rage and me down on my face

Get me my pill under my tongue,

Cover us ‘til it turns calm and stark,

A moment now and She dies,

Quiet in the dark,

Waiting here in desolation,

Knowing I get no absolution,

Come! cleansing burning tears,

Rage, wretched, aching and keening,

Held in darkness my tears drown Her

Then from deep from hell come,

Wrenching and wretched sobs,

Tears will sooth until at last,

Sweet sleep makes serene,

My tortured precious treacherous

Afflicted conflicted if gifted mind,

Tear streaks show shiny,

Trails on my cheeks,

Over wrinkles they’ve cruelly cut,

Nevertheless the sun will return,

I’ll rise up to fly again,

And find once more golden rays

And the cycle will afresh begin,

But sometimes a fragile wing,

Can break with only a word,

Disappointment or just a whisper

And then a lethal wound,

To my tenuously happy psyche

Will toss me from this phony high

Where I so rather prefer to fly,

Heady height lost again,

Please pray not for good this time,

My zooming mind doomed,

Must ever repeat this torturous cycle,

Until Sometime one day I die,

But see, you should not cry,

Because not everyone can fly,

And still yet at least for now,

The rarified air I’m privy to breathe,

No matter whether long or brief,

Is worth the always awaiting drop,

I’m worlds away from ready yet,

For this my mad life to all just stop.

Former print journalist, former mayor, retired law enforcement officer. Writing about politics and government along with random personal essays.

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