Move, Child!

You shouldn’t throw those words around like flaming lips in a one man show. As if you were the only one with the dagger. Ha! I say, as my mind scours the range for someone to mean their twisted truths, for someone to fall at my feet begging for a forgiving heart left bleeding between my fingers, or for someone to stay when they mean forever and a day, plus one, that shudders under the midnight sun.

You shouldn’t come groveling at my doorstep and calling from noon til 3, to open it up wide for all the world to see a captivating scene where two become one, then 3; then back to one and split again into the final plea.

1 for your money and 2 for your show, 3 for the upheaval with the seeds left to sow.

Priceless acts of courage to stitch it all back into a mosaic only to be shattered once again. When I say I’ll stick like glue, I mean it with every breath. When you say you’ll be around the bend, I believe over and over again.

Beyond the corners of a recessed mind, there’s no telling what will stay. One day or more and you’ll be gone running up that hill beyond the edge of doubt where you’ll sink just to pay.

1 for your money and 2 for your show, 3 for the upheaval with the seeds left to sow.

There isn’t so loud an interruption as silence from the one who promised more. The guides will tell you to destroy your outer critics and listen to the guide within; listen to the roar from the depths of banks along the rivers where you once drown in sin…

Only to once again, begin.

To trust another who promised more than the last. We aren’t for the faint of heart or builders of the past. We come in unison as one, to deliver you from this tragic state of despair only to see you weeping in the corner out of fear.

Obstruction lies at the root of your crown, where the tempered stone leads a wayward home. You are wayward on your path. Following the crowd as you spit and scream for more. You know the way, so why stumble as you pray.

Move! Move, child! These aren’t for your eyes to see nor for your heart to captivate on this earth. Let go and surrender to a calling they wouldn’t grasp. It isn’t for you to hold them through, you’ve done all you could do.

Move! Move, child! Swat the swinger and the betrayer. Stomp out the slick tongues of backwards men. Slit their filthy words with slicks and slips of a mouthy brazen triptic wild child who only wanted to play.

The playing is over. For now. You’ve been awarded aboard this ship. Raised as your fellow men and brought forth as a Queen in a land of know-it-alls filled to the brim with tack and mud.

Move! Move, child! Adjust that crown and bow down. Tuck and roll. Cheap thrills are for those with a lack of understanding where you’re going.

Yet, you sit here as if you have no idea.

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