’Twas bright and moonlit
In the corridors of my dreams,
As if all the world were expecting me,
Though for what, that was secret.
Imaginary crowds cheered me,
A thunderous silence,
Between the foretelling of a deed
And its beginning; I saw
Fifteen virgins yet to be sacrificed,
All wondering if I were the one.
I kept traveling — there was no end
In any sight I could understand,
Fire, air, earth and water
Swirling in a dirty, hot, muggy wind
Reminding me that from dust
I was made, and to dust, I shall return.
I shrugged toward the apocalypse,
For what else was there to see?
The end of the world,
If you are fortunate enough,
Is a spectator event like no other,
And only within the dark tornado end
Could fate smile down on me
That special someone; it would
Take judgment day itself,
I am thinking out loud to no one.
Yes, I am alone: bright and moonlit
I whistle into oblivion,
And consider that I desire
What never possibly could be,
Or happened long ago, never again.
moi
4:44am thursday, 22nd june
I wonder if a person ever grows accustomed to the light before they step out of darkness?
moi