1 minute read
Ourobouros by Caleb Brennion ’22
from Outcroppings
Ouroboros
by Caleb Brennion ’22
A glimpse towards freedom, A hope for escape, For we are not safe here. Here we go again, On the wheel of misfortune, Where like a kaleidoscope, We spiral out of control. The circle is round, The brain is cynical, Judgemental. A shimmering light in the distance. Are we saved? Is the answer everlasting grace? Ponder here upon the rock we sit, Twiddling our fingertips. Round and round they go, Pointing the errors and flaws; The squares. Corners cut off, No crust on the bread. Mistaken by the harrowing thoughts ahead. Let go of the ring, Off of the hook. Flags hang out in the wind, Tattered and torn to shreds. A cry calls in the distance, A wail in hopes of salvation, Silenced by a gunshot. Another follows. Spark to flame and spit to shame. He shares no name, A simple man in the game. Driven by the query… Will it cease? It started with a hope for freedom. What will you do now? What route will you take on the road? No matter. You will stare. You will choose. Watched from every corner, The face reads discontent. You question your own mind. Blown away are the thoughts of today, As the past revolves into the future. The war wages on inside. Ripped away from the innocence, You watch as the casket closes. The cemetery moans as another joins, Charismatic, the smile of death stares back at you. You will either ignore or smile back. The hole is dug, and the soil is planted above. The dirt becomes mud as the rains pour. Subject to the world, The wood becomes one with. The bones to dust, and the mind to memory. A seedling blooms under the beech graveyard. A youthful tree emerges. The rains fall once again. Forget the umbrella, As the tears will blend with the cries of the skies. Lightning strikes the tree, And fire climbs the limbs. From ash and dust. The rhythm is unbroken. Am I free? It has no end, No tail.
