#68 Duality and Lessons

courtesy: Wordpress Blog Random_Michelle

Your conscience holds its own hands;

walking down streets,

lightly paved with fertile soul

that grows

both health and disease

in soul,

dis-ease

in sole 

remedy of survival

it held its own hands

because it had to keep you balanced

masterfully equal

and adjusted in the face

of this world’s evils.

Breaking even

brothers of the same heritage

lounging temperaments

that when provoked

could ensure a disaster

for they live everyday speaking

into your essence

guiding your mirth and your anger 

and the all of the ways you can

consider life’s matters.

One sibling settles your cases

observing the laws governing thoughts 

of reason -

the other couldn’t care less

but feeds his ego

while biding his time

till he erupts into rage 

tired of being a mental slave

man enslaved

animal caged

till the other calms him

trading in patience

giving strength to what’s weak

traded in love

for his brother’s ignorant conceit.

And its this symbiosis

that has led you to

a middle ground, narrow

that you choose to tread

because its the only path

you’ve seen that both

knowledge and wisdom consistently blend.

Teaching you :

Justice,

is nothing but lawful vengeance

with rules of fairness upheld.

And the glory in revenge

is nought if

you still have no peace 

within yourself.

Faith without tenacity

is sloth lying under covers

soon to fade for if there

is no action,

words are all rootless, 

slowly dying flowers.

Love covers all things

all transgression 

all faults

but not always in

the way you would choose

because love can be harsh

directing your hope towards truth.

Your conscience holds its own hands;

walking down streets,

lightly paved with fertile soul

that grows

both health and disease

in soul,

dis-ease

in sole 

remedy of survival

it held its own hands

because it had to keep you balanced

masterfully equal

and adjusted in the face

of this world’s evils.

# SELAHSATURDAYS

My Inspiration: Conscience in the Natural Man & Photo Prompt by Random_Michelle 

 

© KohylahPiper 2016

#24 Pendulum Swinging

                                              courtesy: Daniel Diaz

Suspended

between your still palms

is a silky white thread

made up of situations

shaped by multiple instigated events.

It was once soft…

but became hardened with time

never self-destructing

rather, isolating itself

as it intertwined

with fragility

.bitterness.

and hope’s steady demise

At the end of it

dull and

partially oxidized

is a pendulum

representing

the entirety of the time

you have left to choose,

between your soul’s dignity

and the subtle lies

that can never be

transformed into reality’s truth.

You’ve maintained

your composure

sacrificing your joints

to keep that thread unmovable

at its centre point

and though you are confident

that it won’t ever fray

above your head a clock

silently tick-tocks away.

Your fingers though

perfectly shaped

are stiffened

from the years that

they’ve spent

holding an obsolete position,

protecting your pride

from any revelatory events

that will shatter the

wide seams of the covert tent

 you made

to contain

your repressed conscience’s view

that never changed though

you chose to disregard

its deep sorrow

at the mere observation of you…

In its wisdom

it foretells of a sudden jerk

and shuffling sound

that will shake your still palms

unannounced…

it foretells of fear that will cause

an eruption

of splintered wooden cries to fall

from your mouth.

All meaningless

utterances forgotten.

Twine you never noticed

will slowly appear attached to your arms

cris-crossing over the false

perception of power

that you left unadorned,

then you will look slowly upward

to be finally aware

that you never had control

but was left alone, closeted

by your own private puppeteer

and after being distracted by

shadows that will define

your self-made disaster

you will look down

abruptly remembering

your rusted weight

and the silk thread

you once held captured,

and with arms uplifted

against your own will,

that pendulum

will rise moving

independent of even your own

puppeteers private thrills;

holding the truth

swinging freely

then faster

fiercely revealing…

no one ever did control it

it had always been its own master.

My Inspiration: Grandfather Clocks and Dolls.

 

© KohylahPiper 2015