“A tipping point”
atop
the peak
in the empty
hush of desolation;
what once was borne
by centuries of sound earth
now hangs in a perilous balance.
much is revealed in the excavation:
a peculiar envy, paradox of want and covet;
miniscule glimpses shimmering across decades,
silent wants crying out underneath veiled deflections;
secrets gagged and smothered under cloaks of shame and fear
perpendicular grains, checkbox patterns—tilt your head for another story;
worn down by the whetstone of inevitability, is it time or fate at play?
raked by the harrows of forced reflection; time tears away
until there’s no time left to tear; what lies underneath
is predestined to surface. much is uncovered,
earth is unearthed and more is unmoored
until the whole begins to crumble
leaving only a sharpened point
precarious it may be, it is
elucidating, for it is
harsh and
simple
truth
