a wake in the clouds
He’s headlong down a mountain.
Face calloused from the rocks.
His palms are bruised from trying to stop,
and dirt fills his lungs.
The tops of his feet and tips of his knees
are torn open,
exposing his blood.
He’s conditioned his heart,
and his mind is persistent,
but he’s wasted much energy
with befuddled resistance.
What lies at the bottom?
Anything?
Is it going to harm and hinder me?
Or maybe bring peace to the man in me?
He relaxes.
Lets go.
He has nothing left to give.
Faster and faster.
Inertia carries him.
Nothing can stand in his way,
not even a wall.
Not even you.
Now we’re all smiling in hell,
and dancing too.
And off in the distance,
the chiming of a bell.
