I’m caught in a middle, a knot forming,
tangled in thoughts, only when that vessel
is filled, seeking a tap. perhaps its elements
can soothe or is enough to leave something,
anything – soot, I wonder
here I am, embers fanned,
cackling, a form of matter
ready to birth a feeling, filling for flights.
and there’s that, another matter,
with intentions to bury
this child before it’s even born.
I wish for a plain plane,
one that gravity doesn’t defies and
that projectile becomes a success,
without a hindrance to its trajectory.
well, reality defies that.
embers will exist, to be fanned
& alive will also be elements to make them die,
or at least try.
but in the end,
it’s always me giving life
to either those black or white.