Breaking Out

Sometimes, when I think folks are not watching me.  I take a heavy breath, sigh, and look at the evening skyline cresting the buildings, slowly fading into the midnight heat of the glistening city walls.  It's those moments right then, that I clench the necklace upon the chest and close my eyes.  I close my eyes and imagine the shifting earth, heaving me up and dragging me off away from that space and moment in time.  I hear the gentle winds flow past my ears like the see the wind.  I see the wind from beyond me, pulling me into the void of which I wish to slumber in.  That void, that place far off in the distance.  The distance to great to reach it in this time, but in a later time.
      I could reach to that void, touch it's surface with my fingertips.  Those fingers would start a ripple that would scratch the surface of the celestial void that beckons to my eyes like the night sky upon the unyielding velvet moors and shires.  In those fleeting moments that void ripples like a bubble that had be touched by the graceful winds, those same winds enveloping my mortal heart.  That heart that continues to bellow out the fleeting sounds of life.  Only to ponder upon themselves in which they themselves purge the intent of time of their yester-years.
      That void close to my heart, but so far from reach I wallow in the pity of the men who have yet to begin to understand the plague of the wicked fathers that spewed bigoted talk of unyielding resentment in their eyes.  Filled to the hallowed hollowed hearts that yearn of attention of their too longing testimonies.  We yet strive to understand that fellow humans hunger and haunt these swamp lands of scourge and contempt.  We yet have seen the engineer or the maker at hand.  For our hearts, they too seem to battle our brains.  In which we long for that escape.  That void, in which we could caress in that we to will know the escape of our wilted limbs.
     We hunger, yearn, and call out to the void.  Our time nearer or farther than one could beset unto themselves.  For our belief be in our own captive minds, that we too must break our shackles of launder goods, and become more of a free thinker than a captive mind in solitary belief.