Reflections

As I feel my reflection

I’m guessing at the current direction

It sets in subtle

The aftershock of a stark rebuttal

Sort through the rubble of the huddle
Rode the short bus when I could’ve flew the shuttle

What’s easy, really?
Upon sorting could and would be’s

Settled upon all hurdles as developmental

It’s only sort of sentimental

Considering some of my existence has been littering

Littered amongst the simple things

Simple things incinerated into complexities
Complexities that formed a tough husk

Seeds that grew into complexions

Worn and weathered

Brushing a face with hands gentle as a feather

Environments that frayed the letter

Tough as leather

I swear I’ve tried to burn the past

Only to find I’m a pack rat
Alas when a ship has sailed

There isn’t yet a man who hasn’t manufactured contraband

to see further, telescopes that choke the very heartstrings

That allowed happiness to lead unto suffering

Not even surprised at the spectacle

That magnifying glass itself

Focuses the wrath at those tattered cloth sails

One can only watch as that oil is heated

Illuminating the yellowed

Igniting the purifying flames

Cleansing what was considered sameness

Completing the aging on those warped pieces