Leaving Home Poem by Gerry Legister

My heart went on a roam to explore
A place far away across the fence bar.
To seize the moment of an open door
Adventure felt free when traveling far.

With turmoil war, work inspired the mind,
There to find, the illusive feign of reason,
an opportunity of age believed to be mine.
A trial of treason was sent for this passion.

And my spirit is deceived by the weaving,
Of deceitfulness conceived in false belief.
The value of loss my sealed eyes not seeing
The irony that had the best relief, brought grief.

With eyes too poor for a test in night blindness,
Blurred vision saw only me stood on the stage.
But it's hard to see obstacles in the darkness.
Until you trip and fall upon the sharp edge.

Symptoms of trouble with permanent loss,
In a hurry to leave home and go on a roam.
Journeying from London to a strange district,
Changing trains with people smiling at my skin.

The illusion brightens each day with golden skies,
As morning drips down with fresher dew.
reserve sanity in short supply herd bemoans cries,
In the greatness of folly, all my talents withdrew.

And found wisdom to be better than rubies,
Hence my fate, in wanderlust more escalate,
The feelings which belonged mainly to dreams,
A realm ordered me around to ruin and regulate.

What we have seen was truth enshrouds,
Faith comes with not seeing the far horizon.
Nor the understanding with packed words.
But by the clarity of vision, a greater truth is known.

As we work our lives mirrored the facts,
Of hope blossoming on the fake material realm.
Life has sent adventure with a chaos of ticks
By creating a calm illusion before the storm.

The harm submerges soul in this tragic mirth,
I am just as old as the wily shinny ways of gold.
What folly, what gain could bring such worth?
Of all spent energy, time and value tattooed.

And flickering flames set in a loom of dark
says the opportunity for this age had deceived us.
And we saw only the brief transcendent spark.
of that reality being held hostage by promises.

All the illusions we found, were beaten down
I could be relaxing on my couch happily at home
Instead of working, making this mockery like a clown,
Changing towns, traveling like a moron alone.

The answer came through the drifting clouds.
An equilibrium roams to find my way back home,
leaving the fantasy and the silence insults holds.
Taken within on the chin the same coin once own.

Serve only to expose the deeper frailties of our soul
The Illusions of grandeur put a voice in my head
The gifts we hold are not to be sold, for just rusty gold,
we are best with promotions before we are dead.