Spinning Galaxy with gravity
While illiteracy traces symbols
Forged from power and perception married
Married in metaphor even down in subatomic levels
The 's', the dis-ease, while statisticians predict
And crucify the freed... harvesting silence at times
While slithering up tree to tempt eve of dawn with forked tongue of probability
The talking tree that knows everything is one retelling
Of arche-type that lives in you, but also the world
-one bridge spanning fascination of mind's eye and focus-
But where are the clouds or land, where is climate and giraffes or even rememberance
For every fact has truth and context like any metaphor,
even axioms if they are to promise anything,
even laws have to be Just,
or advocates compassionate...
living despite hardship is made possible by daylight
The light in your life lifts up all it's own, troubles
And when groping for truth and context in troubles we can't see
Often seemingly made easier by ye old metaphor, p.
Suited up to fit you, shields, camouflages your dis-comfort
And builds fort within which to operate privately your thoughts
Behind hair, make-up, and furrowed brow in which promise resides...
the archetype of Captain America or perhaps Spider-man or Hulk...
All framed by a suit of clothes, designed and manufactured someplace like Montana
You're a superhero to someone who loves you