Inconsequential

There is precious little to brandish

Forging my way

Through these twilight years.

A couple of hours in a daze,

A day off, covered in haze.

A cliff edge path on which to sleep walk

Towards the snow hollow of myself.

I need some final awakening,

Some super set of problems

To sort me on my way,

To get me some where closer,

Nearer to heaven.

I have fallen short

Throughout my life,

Never venturing far

From my mothers kindling.

She lit my fire.

I doused her flames

With my faults and my graze.

Skin tough I fell through her arms

And landed not quite level headed.

And today like any other

Is spent.

Like I am

Like me who never thought

Of consequence.

©️2019 Christopher Thompson

All rights reserved ✍️

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