Six cents

I drop from the plateau
stop, look and go
on.

It’s a thousand year itch
but goes without a hitch
no one will notice me
escaping from captivity
and then
I’ll be free
hopefully.

Through every life that I live
to sift and to sieve out the
wheat from the chaff,
sometimes
to sit and to laugh at
its absurdity
but
soon I’ll be free
hoping against hope
hopefully.

Illusion is
the light that’s diffused
when you come to end
and you’re all used
up,

darkness awaits me
and knowing this
I
still drop from the
plateau and go.

© 2018, John Smallshaw.