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The Impossible Banquet by Stewart Stafford
Awakened by a stinging sun,
Radiant wings of flame and gold,
I breathe in dawn’s virgin hopes,
With icy shards of doubting cold.
Am I not my parents' child?
Lost my way on a freedom roam,
Invitation to a tempting feast,
Over family, love, and home.
Trapped within the world's crosshairs,
Locked down with time to burn,
Casting runestones, but too late,
For visible escape, I yearn.
An obsessive lady by my side,
A judge of karma infernal,
She took my life with her own hand,
Bequeathing a wound eternal.
Tomorrow’s hopes are now a ghost,
No merciful release to illuminate,
I wish to scrub away the past,
A vain rebirth to change my fate.
But I’m caught in the Reaper's maw,
I weep for you who procrastinate,
Sold my soul on Devil's Bridge,
Then dragged through a fiery gate.
Hope, community, society crash,
Towering feats of grotesquery,
You may not grieve for me who's gone,
Time's cruel critic is all you see.
© Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved.
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