Book of Poems: The Fifth -- The Plague.

Come, listen.

Gather ‘round brethren’

My comrades.

This world is beautiful.

You may not see it yet

And perhaps you will never see

It with your eyes

Closed

You’re whole life

And stumbling, with them

Thinking they are open

When really, you had someone

Help you paint them on.

The world is beyond

Anything you’ve ever known

Or will know

I had a dream

Horrifying, to say the least.

The world was dark

Even the coffee I sipped

The “Big Green Monster”

A taste beloved to my lips

And tongue

Tarnished

With some sort of black hate

A plague you wrought on me.

I saw you skeletal.

Black, and ripped apart by maggots

Or flies

Or rats

I cannot quite remember

Something vile, something… parasitic

[you know the type]

And there you lay, 

And I, just stepping outside

Of my silver car, 

Sweating, my insides carved

Out with fear

Sadness

Or… something.

Your eyes were closed

There was little left of the flesh

Ingrained in the pavement

The darkness

The plague had washed over

And there was nothing but black

And despair

And… what was this?

My mind had construed this horror

A flash of nightmare

Something so innocent

Turned into bright

And blinding lights of darkness

But in this

Just in time

Before paralyzing stillness

You opened your eyes.

They were blue

Like they always were

And you asked for help

As if you needed it

And I repaired your body

And rid you of the maggots

The flies

The rats

The… whatever.

And even in the shock of horror

The overwhelming image

Of distrust

And loss

And hatred

And Plague

There was blue

And light

And beauty.