So the world so willingly offers help to a broken man
Positivity offered in abundant wealth
But the fatal catch is not to be overlooked
The only one to fix the damage and find new hope
Is the damaged self now suffering
And who has given up on hope
But if it keeps the world happy…
Let them believe thier attempts can have an effect
As the broken man quietly marks up his wrists!
There is a propietial moment in a life when something happens, an impact of such note it creates a hole
That impact causes fractures over time as resulting structural failures branch out as cracks which further weaken the whole
Pieces come loose and drift, some get lost as others lose thier value when detached from other elements that gave them meaning and worth
You are broken
And you ask; What if I could find the impact, fix it and maybe repair some of the damage?
And then you ask; Would you ever be what you once where, or is the thing you have become now quite simply ‘you’? Can you the fixed?
I ask you; What would you choose?
The myriad of open hands, offering suggestions and readily staring opportunities making noisy fuss wherever you look, but what?
‘Easy’ is a word we all rally around and with energetic rush clamour to take advantage of but those wisely walking folks, accomplished and with all the worlds rewards at their fingertips, speak with coolly toned advise about ‘hard work wins returns’
But looking upon the mountainous scale of the hill, flimsy boots with their dampening holes passing on the moisture to your socks, that ‘hard work’ is not so easy a contemplation
So you find yourself stuck at; I don’t know?
Has anyone got a good pair of hiking boots?!
A man can be a fool in the name of love but once with a women
As long as the offence is within limit
A second or third foolish act invites merciful fatality
For no redemption can cure his crime in the name of a knowingly fated act
Waters rose, tides got higher
He wasn’t her prince, but an inferior lover
Her wrath was one with the ocean, another claimed by the water
By the betrayal of a prince, many fell to her unearthly power
He stood eternal, she tried and made much a storm to end him
He took her pain and took it more, her tears the thunder
She made the man as her prince, a wedding under oceans
The souls lost to her vengeance, free to sail forever
Written in response to a superior poem I caught on another blog, if that blogger wants to make themselves known in the comments I won’t object
It is the way perception affects the act that defines it’s importance, a small offering at the right time in the face of overwhelming events can stick more in memory than a cascade of deeds offered with good intent