A Hidden Culture
Why does this house of wax exist?
May it be a landmark that would be missed?
Therefore, a demolition ball does not swing.
There is a secrete room within its architect.
I discovered this.
A source of unveiled mysteries erected as a repository.
On a table sits a crystal ball.
I rubbed it and it showed me a new world of idioglipics,
a cosmos of beautiful colors.
Standing-up in the corner is a glass clock
whose reflection mocked the walls.
A man told me I was beautiful.
I did not fear the voices heard.
They were filled with child-like laughter from
a different universe.
There were adults walking the streets of gold.
As I sit in an antique rocking chair,
I listen to people say that the omnipotent would be here today.
Nature was a visionary scene of beautiful flowers and the grass
was rich green.
The trees were tall and the weather was pleasant.
The songbirds sing the songs of the sirens.
Archetypical this world was not.
The clock chimed and I abscond.
As I open the secret chamber door, I looked back.
The repository became a mural of hidden cultures.
I knew that tomorrow I would come again.
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Penned April 28, 2014!
4th Place!
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