A Stick In The Mud

A Stick In The Mud

the ground was wet on that hot day
 beautiful ashes torn in the mockery of its sphere
 yet I stand alone here waiting
 waiting for a next move to be made

 my couch is my friend
 a dismal purpose to construct my laziness
 onto a distant land I seek yet alone on my two feet
 I washed the residue off my face

 this time I see a mere reflection of what's good inside
 days of endless worry in such a reflective way
 humble myself to bow the knee to pray
 words can express the love that one has inside

 Some search as if nomadic herdsmen in sight
 others ponder the reluctance to reach heaven's door
 still inside there are screams falling apart at the seams
 we sweep the rubbish under the rug

 falling head long into the vile extreme
 we slowly come unglued as fools learn to swim
 yet I'm stuck in the mud with the hope to endure
 the steam of hot lava erupting from within

 one can become carnal if their head is not on straight
 tossing and turning through the madness of the day
 release the fire from within to find the hidden desire with out
 a cause to reflect in its sparkling array of brilliance intact