It's happening.

 

I didn't think it would

to me, I

blinkered myself

from harsh realities

I didn't want to see -

 

plunged myself

head long in sands

as, unbeknownst to me,

those particles beneath my feet

were leaking out into

some secret

ether.

 

When I was young

I had a naive notion that

all parts were mechanised,

like robot cogs

spinning bright, defiantly

against the clock;

 

reasoned -

gilded fragments

could not

be hurt;

metallic chambers

simply rot.

 

But here,

another family gathering

I notice you -

more back than forward

looking now

as, cruelly whipping sheets,

you show the truth of how

those innards actually

are vile;

vulnerable and sick

 

like a mad magician

unhinging his trick.

 

While left

bereft,

betrayed, I'm

brimming with misguided tears

that bust at dams of innocence

sweeping currents

swilling at gone years;

 

marooning me

on rough, ramshackled rafts

of memories

and laughter

jeered and

past.

 

Then,

lost -

you find me,

washed up,

sand grains later;

 

hold me

let the tide lap

gently on your chest.

 

And finally we see as one

all that is left

and find peace in

the magic gone.