Brought to light

Eyes stapled to the wall, blots of colour sheen over    
my focus in a bitter display of mechanical philosophies.  
Questions revive in the springtime, enveloped in dust.  
The hollow hunt for answers grinds to life once more,  
rusted cogs pressured into movement by obligation.  
   
Mind whirling into paradoxes, I struggle with tangled    
webs of knotted threads that squirm in their hast    
to be set free. Each one leads to understanding.  
Sleep is both a curse and a blessing, 
neon bolts through my veins.  
   
Lips tremble at the taste of freedom of thought,  
the shackles around frontal lobes breaking.  
Irises contract with the sudden burst of light;  
in this fragile skeleton with my blood running weak,  
I've never felt this powerful.  
   
In the spring, all is brought to light.  
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
Entered in 'The winds of change' competition.