A Feast for the Starving

Give out to the whispering desire
Dissatisfaction in a world that demands
You ignore the voices shouting in the hallway
And cling to praise poured out of empty bottles
For a feast that cannot feed the starving
Wine that flows unending 
Yet cannot quench this aching thirst
Through it all the rustling, whispering
Footsteps on the threshold and knocking at the door
All whispers of danger floating on the night wind
A command repeated long after its use is spent:
Advance, though it steals your breath away
Push onward though the wind itself would stay you
Even as a hurricane threatens to tear apart the wall
We stay behind it, laying new bricks as fast as we can

Photo by Elle Hughes from Pexels

Is the scratching at the door trying to enter or escape?

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