The Line - Independent Sheep
As I walk down the line
I look to my left and I see
The Lady of Mists rising out of the water.
She has started the Dance of Rain
With a white cloud billowing around her towards the sky.
The water comes up with a rise of her hand
The waves crash in an obedient blue surge.
Foam fizzes as it collects on her feet
A pure white unaffected by the son.
Her sapphire hair flows down her back
As a waterfall cascading to the ground.
She?s beckoning all that wish to come
Her eyes inviting those who see
Or wish to see.
In one hand she holds the Truth
In the other the Lies of Generations.
From her beauty radiates in an unearthly blue glow
The smell is sweet and deceptive.
Choose wisely which hand you pick, I was told
For truth is often sought but can it be found?
Still she beckons, but I have made up my mind.
I look ahead and continue to walk the line.
As I continue, I look to my right.
Rome rises up out of the darkness
The leaders are shadows without a voice
Their mouths open and spew wordless hate.
They are transparent, stacked on each other
As they look forward at the wall.
Made of dust, it flies upward
Their grand accomplishments flash before their faces.
Not so grandiose now that they have crumbled
As all temporary things do.
Indistinguishable, it is impossible to tell
One from the other, or whose they are.
Books and ruins are all that remain
Of the powerful regime that once was feared.
Suddenly it begins to transform before me
Familiar images flood my eyes.
Garish colors inhabit my thoughts
Corrupt feelings invade my heart.
Roaring monsters made of steel
Rumble by paper monstrosities erected on the side.
Flashing pictures overwhelm my sense of right
Disgustedly I turn away, knowing the fate of millions.
I stop pausing and keep walking the line.
As I walk two sides rise up in front of me
They are both prepared for war.
Even though they look the same to me
The sight of each other sends them into a blind rage.
For what they fight I cannot
Put on reasons have never mattered before.
In between them I walk
As stinging bees carrying Death on their shoulders fly overhead.
A black cloud hangs over the field
Its discontent causes it to rain.
Both claim to be backed by the higher power
And guarantee a win for their side.
While one side wins, there are two losers today
Neither can take back what has been done.
A lone man stands in the middle of the field.
No one noticed him fight.
He remains untouched but touched just the same
He watched his children?s quarrel lead to ruin.
His tears water the dusty ground
While I continue to walk the line.
Instead I choose to run, run, run away,
To a place where the hills are green and the water?s gray.
Where the sky is blue and the clouds are black,
Where the truth springs free and hate is stacked.
Warmth is abundant, coming from there,
Sorrow is gloriously in the air.
Tears are cried by the One who sees,
The River flows down from him to the seas.
I soar by the wind of my soul,
It flows in and out of the hole.
The hole that was opened by this place,
This place so far away from disgrace.
It took some time to reach this house that is mine
But there has to be somewhere better, somewhere on the line.