You recall the things spoken, and hope there was no malevolence;
The acts undertaken, they were based on your credence.
Those lost times which tested, you look for simplicity
Those times if despondence, you wish they lacked the adversity.
A line drawn can be forgotten, if a bigger compatriot were to stand beside.
But the true incarceration of freedom did reside
Not in the ground down below, or the sky that was blue.
The flame felt ever so close, too close for comfort
There is no channel to drain it, you must create your culvert.
Your sole discretion was to sever all ties
And hide yourself under a pensive guise.
That isn't the true tale.
The impossibilities are endless, and this is the least of what makes one wail.
Your healing shall sear, all shelter shall vanish.
A reminiscent adage that shall always punish.
The coat that your dash has granted
Shall bring you back, in a circle, to the very seed you planted.
It seems false paradise built brick by brick.
But it shall burn, for your flame has incinerated the tapestry fabric.
Now again the moment before seemed better than now.
The escape was never to douse the fire, but rather to disavow
The possibility of being caged in.
You are the incantation to escape your own sin.
A rosette carpet awaits you at your creative collective conscience.
Are you prepared to end the grievance and set in motion a fresh nascence?