Holding Stones

So futile

This mind

That runs away

Blind

Yet proselytising

As if I have some great experience

That may aid you with yours

Yet

Behind closed doors

I am just the same mind

Jumping to conclusions

About everybody else

Just like everybody else

We are every bodies

In our own damn self

And with so many facets

Looking at these things

Which exist

Within

Russian dolls

Nestling in

A thousand facets

Under the skin

And under

And under

And under

Layers within layers

Running deep

How can we assume

Anything

About anyone

And what’s the point?

When the whole purpose of resurrection

Is to rise

Light things drift

I will never in a million years

Be able to obtain lift

With all these heavy thoughts

Weighing me down

Standing on the edge of a cliff

My wings spread out

“Lift”

I direct

But I cannot rise

Feathers fall

Skeleton wings crumble

And a thousand years pass

Still I stand here

Throwing all these heavy thoughts

Useless stones

To join the many below

“Lift”

I say

An old woman

With an old voice

And still

My hands keep clutching these stones

7 thoughts on “Holding Stones

  1. Oh yes, it seems the stones are a choice to carry, even if it’s an unconscious decision. But once we realize it’s been weighing heavy for so long, we are finally able to release it.

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