Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance.~Carl Sandburg
Where heavy-handed choreography
designed propaganda cosmography
stumbles, the ramifications tumble
each subsequent movement panic’s fumble
a constant stress of shocking illusion
no time to consider–such confusion
even when the truth’s exposed, the dancers
pirouette past all of logic’s answers.
Entrained by centuries of outright lies,
taught to question our worth, our very eyes
deceive us. How to wake inside the box
poisoned and gasping, have we been outfoxed?
Bare feet on ground, crowned by the rays of sun,
lucid, I challenge the whirl. I am done
being spun by narratives built on rot.
I dance my tune, reject the old gavotte.
Featured image: Last night’s sunset on the lake, kaleidoscope effect.