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Fondu au Noir

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It’s not like you
To let a bird sit atop your head,
Only give half a smile,
And guffaw at the sun when it falls.

It’s not like you
To mix match with opposites,
Be the one to conjure up a cruel prank,
And forget the notion of time’s importance.

A week ago,
You would have looked at yourself
And seen a disclosure of madness.
Such actions would only exist in your dreams.

So why do you let this happen?
Is it that you enjoy
The impetuous rate at which your heart beats;
Its roar and claim of freedom?

The pace may seem to last forever,
But it shall only die slowly
And ultimately become
Quiescent.



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