Steeplechase

Foundations managed by slow ascent
to reasons seeking
solace in the upper spaces of the minds
reckoning.

I surrender to the pull
drawing me into territories
gateways to untold stories
palaces built on crystal dreams

we search for meanings not deciphered
yet remain locked in a haze
of old rituals, escape impossible

until at last the bud blooms
buildings complete
and mansions perched
on bright stars
light up the way forward.

The journey remains uncharted.

© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 10 days ago

Reviews

[Adam Whitworth]

You make every word tell. The first verse requires care from the reader, and is the jewel in the crown. The poem as a whole, including the illuminating title, 'works' nicely.