Casey Gilfillan

There is a double-edged sword that lives halved
Through me. One blade juts crudely out of my
Chest, broad and bulky, always in the way,
I am cutting myself at every turn.

Covered in my own dried blood, it guides me with
Copper luminescence to my near-death
Each time. It serves one purpose, to remind me
That I am a creature driven by my worst impulses.

The mirroring end is a sharp, crushing weight.
It burdens me with reflection, pinning me
To the surface of my past in an effort
To prevent progression. It mimics my
Restraint, my doubt, my suspicion of advance.

And in spite of my meaninglessness,
This design of intoxicating concern
With unrestricted endeavor finds a
Unique balance each time.
To Creation goes the credit,
Or the mere lottery of Will?