A Transition

We hold on
Too tightly
To an idea
That most closely fits
Into the current
Context
Of images, feelings
That are the living
reflections
Of our dearest
Insecurities
Those beautiful things
dangling
From the ropes
Tied to a stick
Above our heads
Is only us
And we suffocate
The dream
until
It is but a random
Flash of lunacy
In that moment
Before the eyes open
To see that we have grown
Much too big
For the space
We’ve chosen
For our roots

You may reach Sam Burks at srburks@gmail.com.