Obsession

The bright shooting stars that scar the night sky will never grow old. They fall with a fading light, soon after their hearts have gone cold. They worship youthful toys and stroll around in joyful blindness, Afraid of the talons of night and the sharp claws of darkness. Vile, mindless and savage, they are obsessed by a world of greed. The fire is near so they run to the meeting place of need. They call out: ‘You must always be younger, you must always lie. Keep moving, jump high, scream and raise the indecent flags on high.’ As time floats and drifts away, there is panic behind their eyes. They stand accused and lost in regret, by the strong hand that tries, To drag them beyond the high fences, and make them realise, That this is a silent lone world and no-one can hear their cries. How many long, long tortured hours of stubborn bravery, They stand against the cold winds and raging storms of slavery, Hoping to banish them forever, and tear down the idols. The faithful fools who preserve their rocking horses and their dolls, Are now entrapped by the fear of loss that slows the beating heart. As their own tears and wailing prevent them making a new start, They gasp and cough for every breathe, but they no longer speak.