Smoke and mirrors

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Amongst the smoke and mirrors there appears a face,

in a haze, blurred out, what does it have to say?

Home base,

finding it difficult to stay in one place,

and that is okay if reasons give way,

and soon this day, takes a turn and we are no longer simply part of this play,

the weight of our wrong-turns,

has us scrambling our way out,

the price of suppression,

lack of confession,

in order to accept the lesson,

and the circumstances are broken down,

to nothing more than reasons to keep you bound,

through the mist that abounds all around,

a slow sound,

obscured from our view,

the shadows they paint the paths to what is real and true,

so we are born anew,

and our shackles may not be few,

but their grips have loosened as we grew,

into the realisations that this cycle will end soon,

Faatima

 

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