Lifted

A weight has coalesced upon my outer form.

Like dumbbell clouds of concentrated strife.

Every thought and every move is weighed down by cosmic doom.

Spending ages searching out a counter to the constant looming ever-present danger.

They say the pen is mightier than the sword,

but can it support the weight of ages and fight demons imprisoned inside flesh and bone?

Will the arch I painstakingly built, setting stone upon stone stand up to the assault?

Can it even bear a load?

The corbel dome is built on letters words and phrases,

spreading the oppressive pressure down to the foundation.

Finally the amazing weight of the cloud pounds in droves thundering above me.

A storm I could not predict or avoid.

At least inside my wordy abode, there is shelter from the wind, the rain, the cold.

Most important, I have lifted the burden, of my own heavy load.

K.B. Silver