There exists a wall,
Old, weathered, strong and fortified
With broken glass
Possessing a certain sense of gravitas
Therein lies an imaginary rampart
Pushing things away
Creating barriers within barriers
Resisting the rain and all things pleasant
There lay a veil
Then a chasm, wide and deep
And then there was the conscious
Filtering all that was out there
Fearful,distrustful and on the fringe
Always looking in
Tethered to the imagined fears
And to leave when worthless
Reckless abandon was alien
Unwanted, unwarranted and unnecessary
The conscious and the wall had conspired
Grievous damage must be avoided at all cost
But what of the unconscious tug?
What of the haphazard, unspecific, random?
What of the unplanned, the unknown?