Torn betwixt and between two elements
Both in my nature to be
Yet where shall I roam?
There is a cryptic calling in one direction
It is one half of me that rages for what was and what still is
For that is the real me in my natural surroundings
Whilst there are age old roots in another
Which will always be there even when I am long gone to dust
Only one element is needed for the best of both worlds
Me thinks in accidental form, all could be placed finely
Yet I would want preparation
Anticipation
Knowledge
However, having such would not be viewed as accidental
I run a tin along the cage, but no one hears it
I shake the bars and I scream to no avail
Stuck for the time being in a muck
A muck three inches thick which makes a sucking sound at every footstep lifted
There is no sliding here, but a tug exists
It is just the goo pulling me down and keeping me from freedom
I want to run like a wild stallion with my mane blowing in the wind
For every benefit there is a loss
The scales will either maintain their static level
Or desperation will set in
And justice will be had when weighing a feather against a rock
What calls the loudest and which bears more benefit?
To be me in full force surely screams my name
The problem is to answer it
If there are typos or other mistakes in this writ, pardon me, but my zone decay pills are kicking my ass. Just one more grand scam to make things more tolerable. Hell, anything is possible. ~ Maggie ~ August 4, 2008 @ 5:24 a.m. EST
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