Saturday, 22 October 2016

Outer Reaches

Out of reach on the outer reaches, snow clad mountain, gray faced sky, away from the madness of a cold heart world with ice-capped policies and poison wars, I felt that space within. No warm hearth, no smiling mirror, the world turned slush, the world turned trash. Upon high, without a signal, people spoke in frozen voices. I zipped my coat, pulled up my hood and did the only thing I could. Out of reach, upon high, no mobile signal, no laptop lover and the newsrooms under cover. In a world of lies, I spoke a truth, cried for justice, laughed for hope and loved in vain. Out of reach, out of touch, the world was spinning like this song.

Trev Teasdel

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