(fear Poem) A Call To That Which Can Never Be Certain Poem by Ace Of Black Hearts

Castle with grey slate walls.
Come down when the poet calls.
A wind driven magic of unheard words and truths.
A solicitation of metaphors large and tall.
Cattle marching across the farm.
A gate brought open and just letting loose.
Freedom is the pen that writes to both the heart and mind.
It cares not of rhyme, because it already does.
No special way, no pointers to the long lost stray.
Just a homely walk through the park.
Time never sets the exact same way.
Don't expect the words to stay.
A permanent interpretation isn't how a story should be told.
Folding a cloth to be a perfect square.
Putting it away to where eyes can't peak then asking for a repeat.
Tell me does a size and shape not bend or sway.
Perfection is flawed.
It is as wrong as the chorus over and over again.
Yet we dine upon it everyday.
A lust to just to fit in.
A outcast in face and fortune.
Attributes so grey.
So old you'd think it would just wither into a dry empty dust.
Blow and see what happens.
Does it stay or go.
Putting on the good show.
The great illusion of lies.
A praise to the skies.
Faith to those who hypnotize.
A disguise dressed with all trimmings.
In expansive ocean in which we are all swimming.
Whether trying to make it too shore, or just trying to keep your head above the deep water.
Why is it we fear what is below.
An emptiness to the unknown.
Following certainty to the ends of the earth.
When will we reach our rebirth?
And stop chasing all these ghosts?