The Clarity in the Consensus

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"The great stories will always return to there original form."
                                   -Neil Gaiman

The metaphor has no reach, as a star in the sky.
A sun that gives life in the eyes of the earth,
in the storm of our grief... a category unknown.
Surrender to posterity without belief.
 As rich as soil but call me dirt.
I rage forward forgetting that revision is required.
Cliches of lyricism with confrontational sincerity.
All the while pursuing clarity.
The consensus is that my reduction is tame.
While unable to comprehend infinity
a cluster of words that can not live eternally.

In his skull, the light of his eyes...
 to candle flames that flicker and wane.
The grim reaper stands on a harvest of souls.
When sanity only able to entertain,
while it Feels the loss of its reflection.
as if clarity circles the drain
   and we must drink or drown in the repercussions.
in the revelation of the clarity in the consensus

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