And sometimes
Things transpire
They gather together
In secretive groups
And offer you a
Hand
In the shape of
A fist
From within their
Shadows
They punch you
Hard
And square
And fair
And shake your senses
Out of themselves
And back into
Reality
And for a moment
You see things
As they are
And you are both
Detached
And reattached
To this sham of
A life
It doesn't take long
Though
Maybe you are still
Wiping the dust
From your eyes
When your sense returns
To where it was
Yesterday
Before you got
Punched
Before you learnt
Your lesson
For the day
And I wonder
How many blows
It takes
To either
silence you for ever
Or see the truth
That was always
Shouting in whispers
Whilst you confused
The sound
On purpose
Because it made
That tiny noise
You never
Ever
Wanted to
Hear