The moonlight was dull,

Cold in candescence.

His old home,

It too birthing pestilence.

 

Bound by memories,

Of a phantom time,

Old and ruined,

Like ashy graves of grime.

 

He sheltered his body,

Sheltered his mind,

Until one day,

He’d chose to unbind.

 

Opening the door,

Peek and gauge,

Careful surgeon,

Under rib—.

 

Slammed door,

Retreating back inside,

Now rejoicing by his relief,

And clarity being revived.

 

Countless moons had passed,

Staring with what was left of his crusted eyes,

At a vase given to him,

By a woman who spoke in sympathetic lies.

 

Angels told him to forgive,

Devils told him to forfeit,

Confused agony and sorrow,

He decided to remain in conflict.

 

The Earth continued to orbit,

The walls continued to crack,

The voice of his mother,

Demanding that he go back.

 

After much thought,

The man stood decrepit,

But nevertheless tall,

And walked without spit.

 

Door had grew larger,

Towering portal,

Turned key,

No mor—.

 

Sun shone,

With warm candescence,

A new home,

With no more pestilence.

-Kevin Joseph Flors

 

Thanks for reading. Song.

(Photograph fromĀ Pexels.com)

 

 

 

 

 

 

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