Fade

By Cliff Lake

 

Fade

 

The magic wrested from the very ground,

Malformed now and made to serve.

What twisted malevolence conceives thus?

What fractured discernment machines so?

 

The air clouds and thickens.

The soil strains, forced to obedience.

The waters oil and slime,

Our legacy plotted in entropy.

Who has stolen the enchantments?

Some lingers,

Fading,

Fading.

Is it recaptured in neon?

Is it constrained to the ever-present auto-tune?

Feeble imitations!

Spirited away,

Buried deep in leaden vaults,

Concreted bunkers,

Or hauled to high desert,

Where the dunes swallow indiscriminate.

 

The magic annexed from the very ground!

Malformed now and made to serve.

What twisted malevolence conceives thus?

What fractured discernment machines so?

 

An iridescence of existence sequestered.

Why is not proper query.

Who is easily guessed.

When is now.

How is the question.

If one learns the how,

The un-how becomes known.

An iridescence gone!

If one has never seen,

One cannot miss its absence.

And so,

The histories are relegated to myth,

And we are the poorer…

How?

Do you ask how?

I do not have your answer,

For I too would know…

 

The magic seized from the very ground?

Malformed now and made to serve!

What twisted malevolence has conceived thus!

What fractured discernment machines so!

 

Fade,

It ever fades,

And I with it.

Things unlit electric were brighter,

And museums not so dusty.

The displays now covered in handprint,

No touching allowed,

And thus you will not be reached.

Artificiality is the new real.

Make the sure the television is loud enough!

There may yet be a bird singing outside…

May the car engines drown that out!

Next year we’ll be able to carve our own air.

And I won’t have to watch the fade.

 

The magic stolen from the very ground,

Malformed now and made to serve.

What twisted malevolence conceives thus?

What fractured discernment machines so?

 

The answer echoes in the sameness we have accepted.

Bland never caused anxiety,

Dull never raises its voice.

What need have we for allure?

What betterment is found in fascination?

Thrills may be had at cost!

Excitement is only a dollar away!

Once reality is made tedious,

Then plastic dreams are easily sold.

And there we find our answer:

Cold and shining,

Totted up and recorded,

And you get your portion,

Allotted with the same care and consideration

Given to the planet it was taken from.

Do you feel the fade?

Or are you yet dazzled by the light

That is drowning out the stars?

 

The magic poached from the very ground,

Malformed now and made to serve.

What twisted malevolence conceives thus?

What fractured discernment machines so?

 

It fades…

It all fades…

 

Cliff Lake 12/24/2025

Copyright © Clifford Lake 2025

Location: Wichita, KS, USA

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Hope in the Dark

By Cliff Lake
  Hope in the Dark   It is not enough to speak of hope, Impalpable and distant often… Hope is initiated by action, Be it small, Be it unglamorous. Hope is transfused through devotion, Through adherence to a just cause, Through empathy and a kind smile. One must apply that hope: One must be that hope. Ruthless resolve is called for, And a dedication to decency. Hope may cut through bleak times, Hope may suffer through the gloom, Hope is the knowledge that the dark Always gives way to day, That the night is punctuated by the stars, And that the moon returns to her fullness always, And the patient one will see her again. Hope is not blind obedience to fantasy, But is the flower lit by a single ray of truth, A fact piercing the fog of desperation, A handhold at the precipice unlooked for, Yet present all the while, One only need widen the gaze, To see that the clouds end at the horizon, And know that all storms pass in time. ...
Read more

Midworld

By Cliff Lake
  Midworld   In the heavens above the silent stars sway, But are brushed aside to make way for day. In the heavens above the silent stars play, And here we are earthbound, for now we will stay.   On the underground below, the whole earth does weigh, Some say that death is its only gateway, In the underground below, does evil hold sway? Perhaps we will find out and meet there one day.   Midworld we live on, But understand not, Though we try, Oh, how we try. Midworld we live on, Other realms are not given, Though we may not fathom why.   Is the dreamworld a real world, is sleep a walkway? Or is it illusion, does it secrets betray? Are daydreams false visions, no fruition dismay, Are memories old worlds that slowly decay?   Should we hang on in this world, our death to delay? Is time the great reaper, and are we its prey? When we finally pass on, are we led away? Do we find new existence, ascend some stai...
Read more

Quota

By Cliff Lake
  Quota   As I stood in line Waiting for my propaganda quota, To get my fill of the pamphlets, The posters, The promos, The pills, I tried to imagine a time When it wasn’t required, And I might be allowed to think for myself. What happy days they could have been! Waking every morning unadvised, Not quite knowing where you might go or, What you might wear to work or, Where you might lunch that day or, What you might do that evening. Think of it! A myriad of choices! All yours to make! Clothing of different colors, Different styles, Mixing and matching! Varieties of foods, Some cold! Some hot! Yours for the asking! And what if you (on your own) Could choose your entertainment? Or simply choose to stay home? Imagine! Your entire day Filled with choices, Selections, Options, Opportunities… And being forced your every waking minute To have an opinion, To have preferences… To make decisions… On your own!...
Read more