Wednesday, May 14, 2008

Eight minutes away

Eight minutes away the shiver of fear
waits like a devil-kissed king
to decree a new manner of being
and order the pillage and burn
of the core of belief.

It’s preening, you see, and titivating
and polishing wiles till they shine
for an out of this world creation
of a fear based lineage.

From shoulders a cape the colour of gloom
drapes well to the floor of psychosis
and his head bears the crown of suffering
bedecked with the jewels of misery.

So adorned he prepares to preach to fools
while minions clear paths to a heart
with love’s vestiges fuel for a fire
and empathy fodder for pigs.

Eight minutes away; let nobody say
there never is time to decide;
bow to the king or reconnoiter
love’s worth to the spirit within.

No need to catch or feed the fear
but forever to stay
eight minutes away!

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