Needed suffering nothing form

 

Stars you moment narrative

 

My audience

 They do not choose, they only trust,

They breathe the words I shape from dust.

A leader spun from doubt and blame,

I spread his will, I chant his name.

But fear unfocused drifts like smoke,

It must have form—it must provoke.

I name the enemy, carve their face,

And turn the herd to righteous hate.

Should doubt arise, should numbers sink,

I drown them in the thoughts I think.

They fear the flame, but beg the pyre—

And I keep feeding them the fire

Other perennial high be

 

Passing on

 A flicker caught, a borrowed heat,

from a torch held by hands now still.

We fan the nascent flame, our brief heartbeat

fueling its dance upon the hill.

Then, fingers loosen, the grip unwinds,

as new hands reach, eager and bold.

The fire leaps, leaving us behind,

a story whispered, ages old.

The blaze remembers no single touch,

only the onward rush, the endless light.

Is information fish senses

 

Not easy

Grey on grey. 

Foot slips. 

Catch myself.

Where was the trail? 

Gone under this mess.

Another way then. 

Gotta watch each step.

Sun's in my eyes. 

Glare off the broken rock.

Just keep moving. 

Find something solid.

Rough rock under my fingers. 

The pull in my shoulders.

This is real. 

This is earned. 

Not easy. 

Never is.

The weight on my back, part of me now.

Each ache a reminder I'm alive. 

I'm doing this.

No one else here. 

Just the mountain and me.

A strange kind of peace in the struggle.

This is the path. 

The one I chose.

And even when it's hard, there's a rightness to it.

Keep going. 

You'll get there.