Glass<\/p>\n\n\n\n
i.
\nin flesh to beautify
\nthese scars we wear
\ntheir blades
\nand rampant needles
\nto sink and swim
\nwithin our breath\/our blood
\nthe pulse that carries
\nus off<\/p>\n\n\n\n
in earth to rectify
\nthese scars we make
\nrectilinear objects
\nof changing fashion
\nfresh discoveries
\nwe weave and nest
\nbeneath the pinkness
\nof our hides<\/p>\n\n\n\n
in gulfs between stars
\nwe gulp and feel
\nour smallness
\nbut still we carve
\npress on and try
\nto fill the voids
\nthat grow
\nwithin us<\/p>\n\n\n\n
we kiss
-the press of lips
the trail of our hands
across the cheek
the eyes in which
we seek
the unrelenting validation
of flesh<\/p>\n\n\n\n
ii.
the smallness of a day
a fraction
of discontent
of sullied hands
in the pursuit of more
moments with which
to squander
moments quickly lost<\/p>\n\n\n\n
beneath the oiled sheen
\nof quick reward
\nthe plunge toward
\nthe depths of stasis
\nwhere desires dance
\nas if fulfilled
\nas sweet a ride
\nas days will make<\/p>\n\n\n\n
from dawn
with its grand design
the gloss of gold
within the mirrored pool
of want
-dreams still clinging
to the refracted sheen
draped across our eyes<\/p>\n\n\n\n
to dusk
with its tepid descent
to dark horizon
welcoming a brother lost
the kith and kin
of failure
the slow embrace
of silence <\/p>\n\n\n\n
iii.
is a whale
with its vestigial legs
a step up
from the path it tread
upon the land
-plowing the oceans
rising to breathe
upon a plume<\/p>\n\n\n\n
birds too
\nhave forgotten how to fly
\ngiving away
\ntheir mastery of air
\nto build burrows
\nin the dirt
\nto feed
\nupon weeping walls<\/p>\n\n\n\n
we step
\nto the water\u2019s edge
\nin fear
\nof that which seeks
\nthe darkness
\nwhere we once sought
\nthe higher boughs
\nin need of light<\/p>\n\n\n\n
and there
upon the threshold
is where we fail
to comprehend
our place
the reach of arms
the strength
within our hands<\/p>\n\n\n\n
iv.
our offspring
those we hope to follow
in our shallow steps
stand taller
reach further
despite the weight
of our very hands
upon their shoulders<\/p>\n\n\n\n
look up and seek
\nthe stars
\nbefore
\nwe clip their wings
\nbefore we imprint them
\nwith our failings
\nbefore we cast off
\ntheir wisdoms<\/p>\n\n\n\n
they, our entertainment
our reason for being
our source of mirth
as we pit them
against each other
-it is their naivety
that make us laugh
as they cry<\/p>\n\n\n\n
there is panic
in their eyes
fear, worry
and the growing sense
of loss
the qualities we instil
beside our envy
and our pride<\/p>\n\n\n\n
v.
do this
feel this
it feels good
do that
feel that
it feels bad
the answer
is simple<\/p>\n\n\n\n
win
\nat all costs
\nand along the way
\nentertain us
\nnever mind
\nthe lessons you learn
\nnever mind
\nwhat you\u2019ll become<\/p>\n\n\n\n
we will shape you
\nin the baseness
\nof our image
\nthose aspects
\nof our selves
\nwe have allowed
\nto bloom
\nin the dark<\/p>\n\n\n\n
when we are singular
the limits of self
are all we know
sensation
is our guide
and what feels good
must lead
to what is right<\/p>\n\n\n\n
vi.
the journey up
to where we stand
looking down
at opportunity
defines the boundaries
of our thoughts
the strength
of our reach<\/p>\n\n\n\n
the view we settle on
\ndefines us
\nas much as we
\ndefine the view
\nnaming the glass
\nwe look through
\nwithout seeing
\nthe sands<\/p>\n\n\n\n
as we climb
\ntowards heaven
\non regurgitated stone
\nthe view is forced
\nto change
\nbut our definition
\nremains the same
\nglass<\/p>\n\n\n\n
each time
we are challenged
by newcomers
with their own ideas
it becomes
the fight
we were made for
the necessary path<\/p>\n\n\n\n
vii.
into the waters
we cast
our vestigial selves
those parts
we have no use for
the points of impact
the understanding
of place<\/p>\n\n\n\n
emotions that become
\nto hard to bare
\nanything that leads
\nto an easier path
\nwithout the ruts
\nof adventure
\nthe potential of
\ngrowth<\/p>\n\n\n\n
joins
and is imagined
solvent
out of sight, beyond
our narrowing comprehension
-forever lost
forever lighter
we step<\/p>\n\n\n\n
it is our disdain
that lasts
grows
for what we\u2019ve made
those choking waters
with their reminders
of what could be
of failure<\/p>\n\n\n\n
viii.
when we are offered
a higher cause
we mistrust
take it for attack
on the time tested
tangent
of our lives
on ourselves<\/p>\n\n\n\n
we proclaim tradition
even if
it was our grandfathers
that started
the burning of candles
the breaking of stone
-our memories are vague
it was so long ago<\/p>\n\n\n\n
on this
\nour grip is fierce
\nanimalistic
\npre the shedding
\nof vestigial parts
\nmarried
\nwith the selves
\nthat shedded sense<\/p>\n\n\n\n
our claws
long hidden
become unleashed
and for a moment
we are alive
tearing strips
from those
that attack our words<\/p>\n\n\n\n
ix.
like breath
our indignation is gone
evaporating
rising
forming clouds
to rain upon
decaying oceans
where whales graze<\/p>\n\n\n\n
like hope
\nthat ethereal precept
\nbound to the varicose
\nof our veins
\nindignation reconstitutes
\nlike an ache within our bones
\nannouncing
\ntorrents<\/p>\n\n\n\n
it is the ever narrowing
\ncycle
\nthe push and pull
\nof day against night
\nsin against saint
\nthat has us searching
\nfor the subject
\nof our blame<\/p>\n\n\n\n
it is this endlessness
that propels us
into a state
of solitude
with wary eyes
for the passing
of all that\u2019s beyond us
of all that isn\u2019t us<\/p>\n\n\n\n
x.
the child too
rebels
becomes other
a stranger
with strange words
strange ways
that demand
rebuttal<\/p>\n\n\n\n
they
\nthat are of our making
\nour curried hopes
\nfor the self
\nwe had abandoned
\nas we chiseled away
\nthe reaches
\nof our ambition<\/p>\n\n\n\n
drift
\na mote
\nwithin the scattered rays
\nof dawn
\nunaware
\nof where awareness
\ncould take them
\nthe potential of their flight<\/p>\n\n\n\n
we narrow the spectrum
of their sight
and give rise to anger
when they fail to see
how dawn
is a new love\u2019s kiss
how dawn
is breathlessness<\/p>\n\n\n\n
xi.
despite
the hemming
of our children\u2019s whim
the herding
towards our end
their failure
is at a distance
to our intent<\/p>\n\n\n\n
despite
\nthe diminishing extent
\nof these worlds
\nin which we bask
\nin our own radiance
\nwe covet
\nand proclaim
\nour sanctity<\/p>\n\n\n\n
never
\nlooking toward the source
\nthe tempest
\nof our furrowed fields
\nbut casting beyond
\nto the shells
\nof others
\nthat could never be us<\/p>\n\n\n\n
we are all
ruler and ruled
the bestower of sentience
of ampules of time
we are all
ruled and ruler
the bestower of faith
the starving congregation<\/p>\n\n\n\n
xii.
we seek
the momentary lapses
where fear and thought
disappear
we seek
the buzzwords
from the pulp
of our own mastication<\/p>\n\n\n\n
we seek
\nthe short path
\non a long day
\ntowards the goals
\nthat reinforce our truth
\nwe seek
\nbuttresses
\nto our loss<\/p>\n\n\n\n
and as we seek
\nwe whisper mantras
\nof long standing
\nmantras steeped in tradition
\nno matter how vague
\nwe seek
\nand because we seek
\nwe must be more<\/p>\n\n\n\n
lived beyond living
\ngood beyond question
\nright beyond truth
\nlight beyond night
\nsolid beyond the summation
\nof the extinction
\nwe have found<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Craig McGeady is from Greymouth, New Zealand and lives with his wife and two daughters in Xuzhou, China. His writing runs the gamut of length and form thanks to a homeroom teacher with a penchant for Michael Moorcock. Craig loves language and the wonderous places it can take us to. <\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":197,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-180","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/underwoodpress.com\/truechili\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/06\/dmitry-ermakov-119249-unsplash.jpg?fit=4277%2C2841&ssl=1","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/truechili\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/180","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/truechili\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/truechili\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/truechili\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/truechili\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=180"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/truechili\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/180\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":195,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/truechili\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/180\/revisions\/195"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/truechili\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/197"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/truechili\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=180"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/truechili\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=180"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/truechili\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=180"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}