Box

Box


There is an old wooden table with rickety legs;
It looks as though it is ready to break,
Under the weight of the treasure chest which upon it rests.


A little brown box in the centre of the table;
The dust has had time to settle and the spiders have set their trap.
A torn piece of paper next to the box tells the story,
Of the contents of the box and the power that it has.


Do not open the lid, unless you are prepared for all evil.
Do not make a mistake and make sure you keep your faith.
The greatest heart stood before this lock,
Will simply break apart and shrivel.
What more is there to say?


You have been warned; do not touch.
Keep away, because all we have to give is hope.
Is it really worth the cost?
Are you sure that you know?


The souls of humanity are the price to pay;
If you decide to open this box
And ignore what the warnings say.

(C)2016 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2016

Poem

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Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace