A Long Wandering
The darkness is smothering, the stress is raining heavy.
A constant pitter pattering on the roof of my thoughts.
Sinking into the sunken place for the lost.
Where the outcasts and down trodden walk.
Strolling through fields of dried growth and wilted carnations of glum.
Backdropped by jagged hills with smoldering craters, releasing the suffocating stench of sulfur.
All for which the lungs may burn.
By day, dreary skies are warmed by a blackened sun.
As upside-down birds fly backwards, one by one.
By night, pitch black skies illuminating blood from the crimson moon.
While dogs meow loudly as they flee the pursuing barking cats with growling intentions.
Through portholes, only to return to point of origins.
As i exhaust from a perpetual journey, passing the same sign in multitude.
Down a direct road patterned with petrified cactuses, and legless crows.
Sips of vinegar from the canteen, for a cotton mouths thirst that continuously grows.
From afar i can see a group of shadowy figures.
Slowly i approach, as they stand encircling a coffin.
As i near, these apparitions file out into two lines, turning their attention.
They were towering in comparison.
Amorphic, with the appearance of a hooded head with no face.
With two dime sized flames, about where eyes would be placed.
Suddenly overshadowed by darkness, I could smell death in the air.
Unheralded, they release a great shrieking sound and lunge, attackingly.
No recourse other than to run, towards the coffin as they reached and grabbed nefariously
Tearing clothing, and flesh, forced to run the gauntlet.
Stumbling to the ground, I turn to face the impending doom.
But they break up into a swarm of flies and disperse in multiple directions.
Tattered and worn, I rise to my feet, standing in front of the wooden box.
With shriveled andweakened hands, I open it to see me inside.
Laying peacefully, with no worries of distrust or betrayal of lies.
Sleeping the sleep, that's never been slept before in life.
Peering at my face with a gaze, muddled over what appears to be a smile.
As I wonder, if this is the only path to elation?
Copyright © Malcolm Burrell | Year Posted 2021
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