Crash After Crash

The road to hell is
paved with conscious
decisions held up
to the motives;
and with each step
made towards the fate:
they lie to fill spaces
because the truth
is not worth the time.

Pull aside
the curtains
and watch the
shadows fall...down.
They'll find
for certain
that the wise
are no longer...around.

Bridges have burned,
time has reset:
the past is in ink,
and it is permanent.
Bridges have sunk
into the river, and flown
downstream into the sea,
where they are lost,
among other things.

Choose your words wisely,
and keep an eye out
for the langoliers of memory, dear:
they tend to cut right out...
parts of lives that have seen the sun,
the memories you go back to, but
when they come, the day then fades
while the shadows crawl across the pavement,
and the grass, so tall and lean, like
upright, miniature trees that we walk on;
oblivious as any fish
to the existence of man, walking upon the ship deck.

The tide is strong, the waves are fierce,
the ship is in transit, and the crew is in fear:
the storm has swept in, and the cargo aboard
does not float, and will not make it to shore
lest the prevailing winds die down in some fright;
lest the rain is kept inside the clouds on this night:
memories, all memories, down in the hull,
barely recognizable after this translantic haul.

Wheel by wheel, hour by hour, the memories return,
to the beginning, but soured;
like lemons left out beneath the blazing sun
for far too long,
for the shade bid farewell,
and from the skin of the lemon it was shunned.

Now know the surface, and know the past,
use your fingers to grasp and to trace the laughs;
trace the tears, and trace the strain;
there is no such thing as progress in less there is pain.
Now hold strong, hold fast, hold steady,
the ship is pulling into the dock already,
but the speed is too fast, the waves were too strong,
the motor was too small to take all of that water on.
The wooden planks crash, but the jetty stands firm
and does not lose mass, because, like us, it doesn't learn:

crash after crash, bitter but still stone,
it stands fast, and it stands alone.

Once precious cargo, without a glance,
cast into the shadows, barring any chance
it had to regain the hold
it was once capable of having upon the soul.

Crash after crash and as strong as stone:
we stand fast, but we are not alone.