Power

Crack the whip

Of modern day pearls and gold shiny they are

Yet who controls the one

The power is yours in your hand

Though we can’t see

The knuckles protrude as you grip the twines of leather

Woven tightly together

Your eyes look clear

Though we can’t see

Your fingers as they loose their hold

And the whip slowly

Recedes

The beast is stronger

Than you perceived

And now the tables have turned

For the whip

Lies on the floor

Shards of leather frayed

Unraveled

And the beast is out the door

�© 2007 Charisse Van Horn