Unwind
Slowly breathe the dandelion dust
sent skyward—
the rapier of sentience blurred out
in constant conscious efforts.
Unwind
The Day’s toll extracts desire,
pummels passion to pitiable dust.
The sole savior of Reality’s ruthless scythe:
the undying flutter inside.
Unwind
The slow stutter within your mind
—the rage— crescendo building,
Sense losing all sentience
amidst the torrent of nonsensical
emotion.
Unwind
Time is the wiliest thief,
the cut-purse supreme:
a monger of illicit truths.
The invariable avalanche of youth
roars riotously— but in times so few.
Unwind
At Day’s break
the faithful drone of monotony
succeeds in awaking
the stifled rebellion,
the hellion of exploration—
silently dying within the tethers of duty.
