In Ritual Fashion
Catching up to the cart
holding your better instincts
is harder than it seems
The old runaway wagon
you fell off so carelessly
rolls on without you
like a séance on the sprint
tossing totems onto the tracks
and summoning spirits
you can only dream of
You collect those forgotten artifacts
and practice the timeless incantations
as your feet stumble and drag
your mouth mumbles and lags
behind
inching closer to what was once
so familiar
Don’t forget to don your hood
And bow your head
Like that, that’s good
Light your candle
hold it high
As the fashion of the ritual should
The train will slow
from crawl to creep
waiting for your sorry step
to leap
and reach its rickety back ladder
The glaring carrot to your rusty rabbit
Make a habit to grab it
before this soul-soaked caravan
careening through creation
full of intrigue and mystery
mayhem and philosophy
sees your reticence
shakes you off like dead skin
and leaves you behind
for good
.
.
.
