Fragile Wings...........................Lady Blaze

You want to believe, so hard
that things are not as bad as they seem
that success is within Everyman's reach
a moth drawn to the flame of industry
success burns, battering, fluttering
moving in futile patterns, beating
against the light
Everyman reaches, like an orphan
in the night
for a hand no longer there
and he cries
in grief, not for the here
not for the now
but for the Was, the Could Haves
the Would Have Beens
'til even that lies forgotten
all pain drowned at the bottom of his cups
Who is Everyman - my captive moth
drawn with no thought for true consequences
only to fulfill a vicious cycle
so monstrous in proportion
nothing so small as an insect
can fathom
nothing so small as a boy
just turned eleven
with icy hands so brittle if he rapped them too hard against
the brick of a city building
his fingers might

in the end, we all burn
we are the chaff
we are the cattle
in the end, we all freeze

success beats on fragile wings









-- I read the book "The Jungle" by Upton Sinclair, about the meat packing industry around the 1900's. This poem kind of..came out of my reaction to it.

Really good book, by the way, but I don't recommend reading it if you get easily queasy..

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