Reality vs Myth 21 Secular Days
The home fires now burn bright in
my solitary hearth. Sister Morphine having faced her soulful task with alacrity
dismissed the gathered shadow-monger who as chorused fell silent and melted faraway
in landscape cruel; at the portent of this our new born day.
Through bog land our companions
traversed intent on homeward path. The Sky rose bright. The mountains blue. The
waters of reflection now resolved of bloodied-hue. The Comrades of old bade
welcomes stood guard on feted shore as Cromwell and his minions sank low into
the mire; as we rejoiced in harmony of good fortune and of constitutional lies.
21 secular days come full circle
from lonesome collapse guided by skillful surgeries to aid recovery unlike this
fallen tree. No heed neither taken nor acquiesced of your insidious cancers now
coursing through my brain. The bold-scalpel took away my bowel but enough is
still remained to reverse this co-operation in order to prevent such are the
insanities of human life and I forsworn in corporeal pain. Thus cut by stranger-surgeon from midriff
unto groin and reversed ‘like’ scooped-out oranges more usually found when one
is slowly evolving into a humanoid echo-chambered with attitude; thus now in
historical resolve.
