Lockdown Tales

                                        Under the pink moon...

A lone star shimmers

As the empty, haunted roads 

Echo my footsteps.

My shadow follows, clutching me,

Growing closer, shorter, dimmer

As each lamp post light recedes...

Trapped in this eerie silence

A planet is dying.

Nothing lives.

And then

From across the park

The faint notes of a piano

Flutter tremulously in the air.

And from somewhere closer

The wordless cry of a child reverberates,

Fearless, demanding.

The two mingling, bringing alive

The eternal song of life.

Life lives...

 

                                                    

                    Death - a doorway...

                                                       

                                                   

I am the culmination
And the root
Of all the fears
That stalk and haunt you.

          When you embrace and accept those fears

           And let them walk by your side

           I become the doorway

           To freedom and eternal bliss...

           

 

The flame..

"To the Victor belong the spoils!"
For how long?

Once before 
ideas, futures, visions had birthed
Melded, melting chains,
Boundaries,
Celebrating the dawn
Of a Freedom
Embracing all....

Buffeted by tornadoes
Of hate, violence and destruction
Shorn, de-robed,
Naked and alone,
Its visionaries lost to time,
The old flame flutters now,
Flickering and dim.

And yet
Within
Its ephemeral armor
Of understanding, acceptance,
Absorbing all
It has survived ages, eons,.
Indestructible.
Its essence inviolate.

Its glow, the seed
Lies dormant,
Buried deep within us all.
Waiting.