If the dawn light
we're not being pounded into blindness
by the pelting rain,
if the earth and sky ceased
crashing into each other
churning threads of twilight
into a bitter pulp of crushed worms,
a clogging alluvium
then all must lay as it is
until a muddled earth resettles the land
for in those muddled mounds
there will be the seeds of a new sky
Then brooms, shovels and the titans of charity
will once again labor to seal the rift
between hearts and eyes.
Lest the moon tip over and spill the blood,
With apocalyptic fury signaling the climax
In history as in the days of old Noah’s flood,
When the earth resettles like paraffin wax,
Forming new boundaries in the land and sea
With apocalyptic fury signaling the climax,
People of every nation will hopelessly flee
Before the great and terrible day of the Lord
Forming new boundaries in the land and sea.
Rising from below comes the thundering horde
Incredibly horrific creatures before unknown
Before the great and terrible day of the Lord.
Humanity never again occupying the throne
Nor understanding the myriads roaming about,
Incredibly horrific creatures before unknown.
Comes the archangel with a triumphal shout,
Lest the moon tip over and spill the blood,
Nor understanding the myriads roaming about
In history as in the days of old Noah’s flood.
Written October 19, 2022
As I entered, she was already speaking.
"But I opened my eyes, yours were
closed like a sleeping child's.
The movement of your lips proved otherwise.
My heart caught up in my throat,
it was sublime."
I couldn't stay here, weak knees
locked legs, propelled me out the door
that shut silently behind me.
Inside dark hallway, my shaky
legs gaining confidence.
Myriad doors open at my passage.
Their lights briefly caress my face,
stubbornly I move on.
As all things must this hall ends.
And I stand silently cursing my foolish soul.
The door before me opens grudgingly
as sigh passes, cross threshold.
In this room, spare décor
bearing the effects of entropy
in a thin divide of dust.
I am not alone.
My eye's reveal nothing.
Yet my skin flushes, my body
filled with the intoxicating scent
of your neck that summer.
My mind calls to flee,
as the dust resettles around
my seated form. My hand
absently sweeps clear
a spot beside me. I gaze to my right,
and I see her face again,
her rose hewn lips silently
form, "I trust you."
The words still make me cringe;
however, could you place
value where I myself do not?
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