Maybe ~
my voice has been
or is just
a never-ending echo
of poetry once recited
in a moment of clarity
in which . .
no one else could see
or has been clear about
f e a r s n o t h e a r d
nor recognised
denied mocked doubted ridiculed
disbelieved
how do I . .
defend against
that which can’t be seen
when I’ve imagined it all . ?
h e a r . .
my silence scream . !
wrest from my chest
disguised
camouflaged frailties
my dark horse
has always been
a u n i c o r n
I long ago ~
once believed that all there was, was me
and nothing else mattered
but for the belief . .
and come now to realise
that belief is not truth
b e l i e f . .
is but perceptions
of our own making
truth is . .
well it's truth . !
a b s e n t . .
tones
shades
colours
bleeding
contrition
geometry
deception
penitence
n o d e p t h . .
no light
no darkness
no good
no evil
no religion
no god
i t j u s t i s . !
and so it seems
No matter
how loud we scream
I n v i s i b l e V i s i b i l i t y
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