Of late you have been a slidding scale;
A small avalanche up in the unihabited fresh air.
A landscape with mudslides
unnoticed unless tremblings shake civilizations somewhere below;
An insurrectionist drum marching against the abiding orchestra.
Wild horses are along for the ride
While your skin and heart are scathed, probed.
Ascepticized questions never noticing the vaccuum
Installed where your social adherance once lay;
Something’s amiss amongst the water and forest you seek,
inside these four, padded, murky walls.
Of late, you keep to your own tempo
Annyn and fey-like.
I hope, I hold, I watch
through fissures and earthquakes;
Fires and flame;
Through peep hole and shame.
For today you are a caged dragon
Flight is denied and permission to land hastened,
As we gather reaching through your interstellar soar.
Locked-down ward waiting room
The hours stretch on but the minutes fly by
As the sun and city get quiet.
Tonight your are the patient and we, the guardians (?)
Of things you once held sacred.
But tomorrow, I want to hear your insurgent music roar!