What would you do
when a fire burns deep within your soul
and illuminates your body, mind and spirit
with conviction?

Conviction that rains down from the sky
like shards of conscious reality
the awareness of a bigger something,
somewhere, or someone -

a cosmos of episodic anomalies,
freaks of the universe, or
a universe of freaks.

You put your heart in a jar that night
and you put the jar in an ocean,
deep under your skin.

What would you do
when the echoes of your pulse
shudder through your weakening bones?

Bones that weathered cracks,
skin that is home to battle scars
and unfading cicatrices -

You call them acacias that bled through
chinks in your armor,
but security is just a blanket.

And blankets are what we wrap ourselves in
when we run from our lies,
our fears, our demons,
our Gods, our selves.

(not necessarily in that order)

So what would you do
when you're in a Mexican standoff
with your own shadow?

Would you run? Would you hide?
Or would you take the bullet?

What would you do
if your own thoughts became your shackles?
What COULD you do?