Clarion Calls

Within the walls nails scratch and claw,

Those fleshy barriers dripping... raw,

Quivering, sick they flinch from each paw,

From razor biting teeth filling the maw.

The fragile shell is aflame and aglow,

Branching sparks pretend that they know,

But the current posses just one way to flow,

It starts on the peaks, cascading down low.

Those from without see nothing of this,

Not a whisper of doubt, no need to dismiss,

Smooth and assured, untroubled bliss,

They’d never imagine something’s amiss.

Exertion allows some semblance control,

But truth understands where the dice like to roll,

Desperate irony the dark sight’s true goal,

Praying does naught but play, mock the soul.

A sound tilts the mind, an eye must have heard,

This whisper adamant worries absurd,

And while intellect rejects the heart is perturbed,

This flicker of noise somehow might just gird.

The whine is a buzz, the buzz is a roar,

Cacophony yes, but now crying “more”,

Till patterns emerge and notes start to soar,

Desperate, beseeching, begging this lure.

Dizzy and dark and threatened to fall,

Hopeful and lost and alone in the pall,

One glimmered thread offered withal,

One worthwhile reason - the clarion’s call...


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