Keys to the Kingdom

 

We stand in lines with armored minds and soon we find

The price of admission is the sum of recognition

And all the parts are fading into paradox.

This door never opens to intention

Or to masters of invention

Who move in their parade inside an obstacle box

They move with ease and rattle their keys

Never knowing someone changed the locks...

We are empty vessels, vestiges

With labels yellow turning

Forming cloaks of ambiguity

Seeking lost reality

Silence is our tomb and reflection is our sin

Best bleed a lie that blinds...

 

August 1986

Anthony Foster