Two Parts Of A Three Part Cycle Poem by Joshua Bantum

I was born inside a wooden box, one small one slim
and coarse like rock
a pinhole marked its aging skin
where from it grew a light
showing the morning, the nights
it formed the sights
that occupied my mind.

I, in time felt weary from
this dull light outside which wore me numb
the theater, drama, and distant play
became a layer folding thicker and thicker between me and it
every day
maybe a spark at best came from this voyeuristic
way

I turned my eyes with the lights sharp glance
now enhanced
it shone onto me
defining myself, my figure
my existence solely
For a time I felt this light, its grasp
a dance in my heart it conjured fast
like the wind composing leaves in motion
it swept away my worries at last
displaying a future cut from the root
my grounding past

Finding a dreams embrace
more potent than the shadows plastered form
on my wooden case
I casted out the outside light and forged a shard
inside my own
it shown the worlds own view in tune with my innards tomb

for a passing time unknown
this dream lasted from beyond its home
it carried infinite memories past
lasting far beyond my former caste
Finally i decomposed it all
into the heaps of a deadening star
that once seemed a pinhole bright
showing a world of figures that bled out their light…