a faded churning

the roots, of even the most feeble of weeds
can topple a dam
one that barricades soft and hidden restrictions
these tangled strands can tear and dissemble
crumble and cast earthbound
with no thought nor plan to veil
the remnants to be strewn and tossed forsaken
like the fortune of a die flung

from afar
all edges appear keen
whole and inviolate
but upon that inner mirage
in that radiant shine of consequence
let us peer into the faded blue....
you won’t help but see
that even the meekest sound reverberates
and will....when loosed
bend the very mind to wrap and churn
all those of an afflicted harvest