Cracked

.

A beautiful girl stumbles over a crack in the pavement,
she drops and cries.
"Who put this ground here?" puffy eyed.

The man who loved to build says,
"I layed that pavement," he pauses,
"but I would never fracture it."

The woman who loves her evening strolls,
"I step upon that pavement as often as I can,"
"but I haven't the muscle mass."

The young child who lept beyond the crack,
"I've seen it, yes. But wouldn't touch it for a Klondike Bar."
He feared for his mother's well-being.

"Then why did I fall?" the girl begins,
"No one is to blame, it seems.
Yet, still I ache."

Another girl close to her age approaches.
As she begins to speak,
drops as the pavement grapples her feet.

The first girl, with bruises on her knees,
approaches and lends her hands and smile.
She laughs and sings a low melody.

"I did not put it there,
Though there it will stay.
So that maybe someday"

"Together we'd reclaim our poise.
and we might not fear uncertainty.
How often does one stumble upon pure mystery?"

And, with one accord,
they lift themselves upright;
calling to mind that they are not customarily struck down.

Icarus

When Icarus plummeted,
Did he curse the Gods for his misfortune?
Did he loathe himself for his heedlessness?
Or did he die with dignity and grace,
embracing the cool brine below?
Should I fall,
will I drop gracefully?

Swimming Pool

The shallow beaches sag, becoming vast sea below.

Where soap box shipwrecks will never be explored.

We green soldiers set out to find we were never loved--

We were only envied.

Our vessel was made of longing.

Our sails, defeat.

Lost in the yellow brine.

In this inverse world,

We dwell upon our mistaken glory.

It turns out we're not surrounded by sea.

Our dwelling is fenced in by potted vegetation and tile.

There are bronzing, tormented, former sailors steadfast nearby.

Unfortunately, many are hardened against particularity

and shift into statues in the daylight.

But here in our dubiousness,

we ascend.

We are no longer surrounded by band-aid marine beasts

and quarter-dollar treasures once held dearly--

now not slightly.

Some golden serpents wishfully smile as we pass.

Ignore and disregard them with blind eye and deaf ear.

Finally, swimmingly,

we are discovered by two utmost conceptionists;

they are divers exploring a shipwreck.

Today we are astronauts together.

It is hard to fathom we started as mere plastic--

mere statues.

Never expected to soar beyond stagnant tide and crimson blue.

Now we are moon men.

We were statues,

and have been molded into men.