It was in observation
of manipulation.
She used
her mental prowess
naturally throwing screens
at conflict,
hiding the truths
needed,
protecting the secrets
accumulated.
Her vast trail grew
like the shadows long
tails tethered to the
horizon sun.
Twilight grew
in her eyes.
She was tired.
The attempts
at manipulation.
The unlauded successes
of its unintentional existence.
A great book for the
counter culture.
She’d stood on one side
of the line by necessity
for so long she was unsure
at first how to feel
when good fortune
brought her to
the other side.
And how at that time
the magnetic draw
she fed on increased
and strengthened.
She had no choice
but to stand
where she stood.
The prewritten law,
the contract signed upon
(re)initiation, feigned at
as a victim’s house,
acknowledged
the many paths
to take,
agreed the poisons
of the world
would overtake
the soul
if the sun
was going
to shine
on peace
and goodwill,
to overcome
the counter balance
incumbent from
this game’s inception.
The trade off
for those who
will or will not exist
in the heightened world
of the future, the point
being to assist another
dying world, or to learn
again.
For now her resolve
asked for piety, for
forgiveness |
amongst the shadows.
Her resolve to adapt
to the onslaught
of challenge
and awkwardness,
to grin through
once regulated emotions
of pain and suffering,
to continue transmuting
the darkness of the soul,
to carry on as a beacon
of higher awareness.
She had once learned,
deep inside a dream,
the memory existed.
Beyond the sun and galaxy,
in a space accessible to opened souls,
the maps of many paths reside.
If she guided to it with her heart,
she’d remember the choices she made;
if open she’d easy navigate
the river of the soul
to starlight
and the inner healing
of its energetic core.

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“Remittance” is written by Michael Aaron Casares. All rights reserved.