Boundless Boundaries

Chaos billowed in on a still cloud of blackness,
pulling the eye from left to right, ahead and behind
tearing it into peripheral matters.
The Am I’s tried to find the I Am’s
in a pool of potential,
where water cannot be grasped by the hand
and life is coated with a slippery escape mechanism.
The shrouds demanded professionalism in madness.
The aching of resistance remained silent.
War was a futile waste of the breath of life,
keen on living free-style.
Difficult as it is, a small thread remained for freedom.
Contortionist chameleon delusions looked
for adaptable minds pliable to newness --
reconditionings of conditionings being a fairy tale
with hidden agenda.
Freedom was dressed in a prison and
the prison was real.
The boundless was binding and
the escape routes were dead ends.
Rotations came around to then in a now.
Consecrated heart tearing ceremonies
offered deals of unfulfillments.
Prose filled cries never becoming poetic license,
captured in the chambers of fiction.