The Light in Front of Your Eyes

Sometimes we can’t see it. That Purpose.
It can slip from our grasp...Me and er away
down
into
the great reaching sea
To mingle and clot and disperse so that we can no longer see it.
Lost.
We wander confuddeled in a sack of mist
which
despite its transparent state
is a web of thick, unyielding rope that tightens every way we turn
and suffocates our every move
and torments us
so that when we appear in a court of law we judge ourselves guilty on all accounts.
We bind ourselves in the rope and descend into the fibril maze where each detail is significant.
Each moment is wrong.
Every action is condemned before it is conducted.
Puppets of our own delusions...Or are we?
What will it take to break free I ask myself again and again and again and
a
g
a
i
n
Swinging on an endless roundabout. The only question that matters.
Yet then.
Like a crazed jack-in-the-box
springing from confinement
the rope is snapped apart
And colours
And emotion
And...
Life.
To breath free is to be free, and exactly who controls that breath
but you.