Blackened night recesses turn into days.
They become unanimous with solidarity but
lost among themselves, shattered individuals
of the same black mirror. The pangs of truth
and the options reality provides for us is nothing
like the lies that satiate the spirit. They are fallen
among the saviors that came before them and
taught humanity lessons, reignited the notions
of the sacred and profane, banished secrets
from our lips but taught discretionary balance.
Lackluster criticisms, halo ringed hypocrisy,
the tangents of emotion wrinkle on the
brow leave us discombobulated.
The heart beckons. It is a beacon for
ghosts of the wilderness that nest
and root deep into the veins of the
earth, the trees. Dozens of spirits,
memories of humanity swell and
writhe begging for sustenance.
They require blood, and the
galvanizing energy of betrayal.
They require the vessels to examine
their souls, to identify universal
truths, to search for unadulterated
morality, and to whitewash with
blackest sin the inherent and
incarnate verity of source
The hole in the head
implodes, corrupts digits
and organs, and eyesight
and discernment. Leaves
dead bodies unturned in
silent procession from
the center of the galaxy
to the threshold of the
home. The jagged crags
erase the riddles as the
fools line up to worship
the sun. At dawn, on the
beach, burning hearts
in effigy, they spread
their poisons and
condemn the flesh
to tarnish the soul
and recruit the fodder
the father commands them.
And the fools will sacrifice themselves
to save the children and remove the haze
and fog of illusion and deceit. The fools
will rise from sleep, will push off the
lumber of dreams and nightmares,
the shackles and cages of unknown
histories have rot off with the needles
of rust and poison that traverse hidden
galaxies and unfurl the mind.
“Black Orpheus: Awake in the Abyss” is written by Michael Aaron Casares. All rights reserved.