Their Offering

there are no sands of time
no flights of fancy
no hidden beliefs tucked away
in seldom accessed tumors
located in gentle minds gone rogue,
there is only the dirt tasting aromas
of a casual life that propels
us forward and ages us in
spiritual premature ways;
and yet, for some of us, we
cannot accept these mindless,
voiceless games of toil we
set about to each day, so
rebel we do by speaking out
or yelling out quite loud
oftentimes construed as screaming,
with carefully chosen word
profanity seldom heard outside the Navy,
or in the halls of society, covered
with donated tapestries of the
unknown or of the unremembered
about which we were taught;
quite mightily so and purge
ourselves like cats with hairballs,

showing our strings of energy
and multiple dimensions,
offered to us quite freely as an
offering of their continued abuse.

21Dec14