inertia

some call it tradition, repeating something because that's just how it is without consideration about changes and others say it is self deception when the ideal is a stretch too wide, cobwebs break apart but lies turn into what feels like truth for the emotions are adamant that this quiet stream would lead down to peaceful villages, the smoke up ahead is mistaken for campfire emotions allayed with sound reasoning bearing little factual discernment, continue down the stream even when vultures are high in the air, mind them not, give another positive self talk to calm that highly sensitive heart! this time it is different the wise man calls, hearken to him not because a better lie calms an anxious mind isn't the proof in the pudding? streams turn to rivers, rivers gain momentum the rower in the boat loses control. crashes. wham. ah, it does hurt no stories can make whelps and burns go away, always a reminder i suppose when a better lie comes along, it dispels not the myth, covers only what is a raging, pulsing heart eager to unleash venom on a cold, mild earth foraging on green grass the other did not get, gathering just beyond those fences, hungry eyes stare at the better life, coming in various forms, soothing, angry, intimidating, seductive, vulgar, nothing is too much when stakes are high! then the smokes reaches the clouds, a bellow, a stomping of hooves and a dreamer awakens from his slumber reaching to catch paradise already fading with the morning star piercing fog no longer willing to remain present when tides recede, there is a time for everything stories too diminish when morning glory burst forth, swaying about unperturbed by narratives.