The shout of bitter bearings
Hobgoblins raking skin, clawing back
is often more than we can bare
but we grind
and we hope
the wind hollows and howls
Shake loose our bristly layer
Of apathy
and our roots
entwined in lore
relinquish their hold
The solitary traveler tumbles
Pushed by shrieks and prophets
Rolls in barbed amazement
Seeds of pity left behind


an evolved project. © malai carrara July 2011
original posted April 2011