The Menace
Everywhere I go, around almost every corner, I seem to be haunted by the Menace. It hovers over me like a dark impenetrable cloud, preventing my captive spirit from soaring above .
The Menace keeps me down. Because of it I cannot seem to fly. It is worn on the face of a strangers in passing who give measure… in just a secondary glance.
It is true that the eyes are the window to the soul. And through such we illuminate the richness and depth of our own beings. In a flash we transmit the essence of our conditions. And when that measure reflects back upon us we are somehow rebaptized over and over again ...by our own reaffirming shadows. It festers under us like a fire; begging for allowance. It is as lucid as an infant’s mother’s breast.
I am tired of the Menace. So tired that I am angry. So angry that I will either self destruct in the pity of my own miserable fate or I will slay it with the sharp blade of my own resolute and unbending will.
The Menace keeps me down. Because of it I cannot seem to fly. It is worn on the face of a strangers in passing who give measure… in just a secondary glance.
It is true that the eyes are the window to the soul. And through such we illuminate the richness and depth of our own beings. In a flash we transmit the essence of our conditions. And when that measure reflects back upon us we are somehow rebaptized over and over again ...by our own reaffirming shadows. It festers under us like a fire; begging for allowance. It is as lucid as an infant’s mother’s breast.
I am tired of the Menace. So tired that I am angry. So angry that I will either self destruct in the pity of my own miserable fate or I will slay it with the sharp blade of my own resolute and unbending will.