January 10, 2008
By Erik Masters, St. Charles, IL

The mornings are full of dew-covered seas of sepia

The feeling I have inside stirs a sense of being sporadic

I am transfixed on my prize

A piece of parchment that lets my elders know I accomplished what was expected

And hang on to miraculous things that I have managed to complete

The beige colored setting of life in Illinois continues to beat like a slow bass drum

Stuck in my clock tower I proceed to observe time

Pushed onto a splintering wooden plank of the pirate vessel- Lady Future

I stare into the abyss, the long dark deep blue

The silence and inward breath taken is the last feeling before the plunge

Shadows converge my figure, temptation, and decimation

With a wrong breath, the world grows dimmer

The haze of force and pressure fill my ears and my mind as it slowly erodes

Until it dawns upon myself

As I Exhale….

I draw the card of power, of wisdom, and of courage

Virtues that plunge the darkness into the pit from whence it came

No more shall it haunt my steps

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