Zephyr

There is no safety in the streets,
In a quiet dream of home.
Buoys in the arms of sleep,
The embrace of the learned.
No haven lies
In the cracks
On the pavement,
Traced
With the brief elation
Of a zephyr’s gentle urgency.

But come,
Let us speak of this absence,
This stark lack.
Knowing leaves us
Unshackled,
Unbound by the cuts,
The delusions that dictate
Pathways to impulse,
To a life suspended,
The restless soul poised on fire.

There is no shelter
In the shadows of the brain,
No refuge in the whispers
Of a culture we find,
Spinning tales
Of futures bright,
Where dreams thrive,
While reality bites,
Omnipresent,
Eager to divest.

To unravel the notion
Of safety, a gift bestowed.
The chains of illusions,
Those heavy links,
We are freed,
Unburdened
By the weight they bear,
No longer bound
To scripted roles,
Caught heedless.

No solid ground
Where we stand,
No fortress of time,
Only fleeting moments,
A dance without melody,
And yet, to know this,
A secret unsaid,
Unwrapped,
Is to taste the sweet liberation
Of truth, unlocked.

Let the world spin on its axis,
Let the whims align.
We are the wanderers,
The blessed vagabonds,
Exceptional.
We embrace the boundless
Absence of safety’s control.
Unfettered,
We journey,
With no fear to comfort.