The turning of tables

 

Image result for blinding light

The blinds are open,

the night has been stolen,

from our temporary grip,

fell into slumber and then time disappeared like a blip,

on the radar of our productive capacities,

machinery that needs a recharge of these batteries

sunlight streams in illuminating the inside of this room.

It is too soon,

as the brightness kicks in inside, I realise

that I had better rush out before I get left behind,

running around, centre, left and right.

and then it all turned to white.

and we wonder why?

wasting away fragments,

forgotten our potential trapped in this vacuous,

limited cycle,

looped and entangled like disciples,

to an unending tornado,

forgotten faces, hidden agendas,

lies, and the eventual turning of tables

Faatima

 

 

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