A box that no longer fits.
Within the heart lies a chest,
Secrets and treasures
We keep only for ourselves.
Stored where the dust cannot touch,
And light cannot inspire.
Inside that darkened prison,
That benevolent wasteland,
Lies dreams too fragile to be realized,
Memories too precious to share,
Secrets too dark for the light.
In this casket sealed tight as a tomb,
We hide what no one else may see.
That place where dreams and demons are interchangeable.
Sealed by expectation.
Trapped by fear.
In the treasure box of expectations
Lies the battered soul
Of someone long forgotten,
Of a life lived, trapped by farces,
Played by unseen puppeteers tangled in strings.
Unfulfilled dreams press out from between seams.
And muffled music plays out.
The refuge becomes the prison.
How did the haven we agree to,
Become a prison we cannot escape?
We might let the rain saturate the walls.
Wash like cardboard down sewers,
Or float away like leaves, on rivers of change.
The sky erupting with storms,
Or gently soaks with life.
Or maybe light the cartons with inspiration,
Matches hidden in our pockets,
Waiting for just such an adventure.
We burn away boundaries and borders,
As phoenixes rise from the ashes.
Or we might simply leave by the door we paint on the wall.
Or slice into the ramparts with knives
Honed by courage and desperation.
Light streams into the burrow
And we raise our faces to the sun.
What happens when the box no longer fits?
Everyday Muses 