The Circus

How much illusion can I stand?

And what of it

More work that is true in this isolation?

Otherwise the distraction, the avoidance, the worry

The tasted tears, the blunder, the hurry

Because only once through the den of mirrors can I see

Only after demolishing the house of cards do I soundly begin to be

At times I give thought to no other

There is a noise, a fog that consumes

Awhile life’s aloofness eludes

It’s attendance to the whole

Embracing the newness while sorting through the old

I face the mound of deafening silence

As an opportunity to get lost in the carnival of my own affairs

I encounter no unlucky games as I initiate my stroll down the rows of traveling vendors

Everything serving a purpose amid my zig-zag pattern walk from A towards Z

Speeding past the Bobbing for Apples booth I know better, perchance I may perish there

Distracted by fruit so succulent and sweet I am alerted by the rock of waves in the barrel, knowing many a man who has drowned in shallower depths

Beware-beware the game

The dance, the candy- the charms, the giant bears.