Yawning blanks her line of sight
Warps her thoughts before they’re thunk
She half-hearted, tries to force a truth from light
Parts the robes of her good monk.
Collects her thoughts, these curious stone
Illuminated special by a cosmic being
When she landed, gathered her feet in a brand new zone
Blinked and rubbed her eyes of what they were seeing.
Pondered why good fortune scarred her sky
As if to frame her unusual masterpiece
Without which reason should not waste a try
Divining judgement or logic in life’s disease?
Life of deception, accounts she could not settle
Confusion’s taint in each and every breath
Marching, hiding from a conscience she would trammel
Resenting those that did bequeath.
Their parachute twirling gracefully
From a story far above
Now ending rather fitfully
It’s over! Finally gotten rid of!
Turn a page? There are no more.
You know her ways, no gratitude
Ripped clean out, her spoils of war
Take it till it’s gone. The blade, her attitude.