cycles

the flame flickers in front of me,
cackling at the insanities of life.
i laugh with it,
hoping the darkness will mask my deepest insecurities.
with the gentlest touch,
the chains allow their fingers to fall,
and i am free.

colors begin dancing-
the red of a scraped knee
and the yellow of the sun’s symphonies.
my mind begins dancing-
the waltz of an ambassador
and the jitterbug of the harlem renaissance.

but then the absence of color fills the room
and my mind begins rocking back and forth
in the fetal position.

once again,

the flame flickers in front of me,
cackling at the insanities of life.
i laugh with it,
hoping the darkness will mask my deepest insecurities.
with the gentlest touch,
the chains allow their fingers to fall,
and i am free.