The Blinds of Decline

The Blinds of Decline

The ruts sink deeper,

The peeling silt clamors

And scalds under the forge,

Where I sit I can see,

The cracks,

The holes,

The negative spaces,

Exposing the frozen roots

Of lost possibilities,

Through which the wind sang.

No longer.

Time hurries to slow.

Gravity pulls into gravel of reluctance,

Where I now take shelter.

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