in the arms of the world

in the arms of the world, entrapped and bound, the life of the common man, adrift like the empty containers tossed to the sea, there is no place for the empty self, it has no home or goal or place, it languishes and turns in the wind, unobstructed by walls or shelter. one side is the immovable everything, the other the irresistible suction of the void, the nothingness, the enraptured silence. zephyrs flow through the valleys of decision shooting for release, a crack an opening, the world erected cliffs converge and force upward the flight that cannot end or be contained. no sky abounds above or below the empty sea bottoms and has no place to go, all is stuck and still, the forced and pulled aside, where the flow is free nothing can hold on, all is swept before and behind as the windmills burn in tune to the rhythms of the pulsating thunder and burning fire. the world trembles in the cosmic wind like a leaf in the open range fluttering with the coming peril and the imminent passage, all lives beating like a drum fearing the coming darkness. the road taken is less than it seems and leads to nothing the road not taken goes on forever and cannot be found without naked feet stripped to the bone in flesh that feels dry and twisted. each step another nail another plank another foot closer to the end. one dressed in silence hears the truth another singing walks serenely past, the fall from the cliffs to the rocks of reason and security leaves no passengers behind and only the wind blows further on.