Everything is about to change.
I stand, poised above the precipice.
They pass, at odds.
Dancers with steel and porcelain.
I smile, but not at them.
It's never been at them.
They cannot see it, not raw.
Yet they think they do, fools.
Fools think they see everything.
They see nothing, only what I will.
I cannot help it, nor them.
This is just the way it always stays.
I can feel the wind, my smile grows.
My hands are spread, poised.
I long to jump, but I cannot.
The sun blinds and sand binds.
Time is my cage.
But it cannot hold me forever.
And it cannot enslave my smile.
My smile is mine, always mine.
The mask is tied tight.
Some days, I forget it's even there.
When I land, I shall pull it free.
Take a bow love, no strings.
- N
P.S. This painting is "Industrial Sunrise"; by Gerasim Vitiakov.
