The Tower - II

Words are windows, or they're walls,
They sentence us, or set us free.
When I speak and when I hear,
Let the love light shine through me.
— Ruth Bebermeyer

I sit here in my bubble
Complacent in minor victories
And conquest of an imaginary castle
While on the border something else looms,
Signs of which were ever present
But invisible to my eye
Closed in comfort
In my self-imposed exile.

Something else, which strikes with force
The glass bubble, which shatters,
Lacerating me
In crimson hues.
I somehow (do I?) maintain
A pristine illusion outside
While Chaos reigns supreme
In another realm.

With great difficulty
(Perhaps outwardly imperceptible),
I manage to pick up the pieces
And run away
Into my fortress of solitude;
For words are windows or they're walls
To sentence us or set us free.
I have been sentenced before: by my words
Spoken in Chaos. Sentenced to oblivion,
Banished from a future.

And instead of speaking up again
In Chaos or even false comfort;
Before I act again upon
The shattering of the walls
Striking back at life
For being cruel,
I would perhaps be better off
Keeping silent.
Doing nothing.

Because life is just life,
Its cruelty or kindness is a concept,
Triggering aversion or desire.
It simply teaches you,
Bending you to its will
Impressing upon you in experience
What intellect can hardly comprehend.
This path of eternal learning
Exists all the same, whether
I choose to deny it, bury my head in the sand,
Or look forward to it.

With detachment I must learn
Lessons from the broken glass
While tempering the Chaos,
In order to create
Something Stronger.

Cover art by Jilbert Ebrahimi