His Destiny to Destruction

The breeze scatters his thoughts like diamonds,

Leaving the pain and lost dreams piled at his feet,

He bends to rifle through the wastage, devastated,

Gathering those that he refuses to destroy in defeat.

🪽

He promises the moon that he’ll reawaken,

Determined to ride the highway that very night,

Criss-crossing the dirt shoulders with the dust from his heels,

Disappearing any obstacles that stumble into his sight.

🪽

The leaves on the nearby trees whisper their demands into his ears,

Screeching loudly against his eardrums while he’s distracted,

Slumbering within his life will no longer be tolerated,

They demand he stands tall, stands proud, to win over the abstracted.

🪽

Moonshine and lace is the veil he wears over his eyes,

Sprinkling his view with shades of white and black,

He needs to be reminded to chase the shades of grey,

To collect the forgotten traits that he scurries on back.

🪽

The swishing of the kaleidoscope working in the background,

Washing his deeds from the darkness of his destruction,

Rinsed with gratitude for the lightening of his load,

Weary that his life doesn’t come with full blown instructions.

🪽

The door to the underworld stands tall and slightly cracked,

Giving him the opportunity to visit if he so desires,

The birds in the trees chorus a demonstration of abstinence,

Cautioning his decision, advising that it is more than he requires.

🪽

Silence abounds at the drop of a pin,

The shattering of glass an echo from afar,

The shimmering moonlight splatters off the fragments,

Sending a ladder of song up on a distance star.

🪽

Seldom does he move against the wishes of his partner,

Where he is cradled within their wisdom of tomorrow,

Devastation is written at the top of the menu,

Chosen wisely would see the destruction of his sorrow.

🪽

The peeling of his telephone sends him into chaos,

The thundering of the tone grating upon his unwary emotion,

Rarely does that ring deliver him into celebration,

But it certainly kicks butt and sets off in a calculating motion.

🪽

The whistle of a train blows from the direction of his future,

Reminding him he’s late to the party, he’ll miss his ride,

Secrets abound the clashing of the wheels against the rails,

Toing and froing, gifting him the ability to invisibly hide.

🪽

Tears of regret spell out the grief incorporated within his name,

Seeing him struggle when riding the lows of his choices,

However, the sun smiles down upon his fair head

When he chooses worthily and life suddenly rejoices.

🪽

It’s at this timing that we hear his voice loud and clear,

“I will not be beaten into submission by my will,

I may choose unwisely at the dawning of a new day,

But by the darkening hours I reach my destined goodwill.

🪽

Tomorrow will scatter the minions of my destruction,

As I ride the reasoning of the courageous mentor,

My lucky stars will align, my destiny on track,

To live the life of love with the people I choose to adore.”

🪽

Sacrifices be done, he wanders the earth in all his glory,

Mastering the race of education and wise beginning,

His heads surfing the clouds of his near distant dreams,

Defying gravity, weaving in and out while subsequently winning.

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Originally published on Medium