The Wasteland

 

We were wandering in a world

Where the sun won't shine and the dark seems interminable

And shadows flit across the land

we are living in a wasteland.

and I'm trying to understand.

Is that illusion or is it really the end?

 

The spell was on me, all seemed so dark.

Dark things close to me seemed insidious and stark

While all that was far seemed vague and dusty

And this world seemed ill, sick and musty.

Pungent with the smell of spreading death.

Soft and spongy, spreading dark spores all around.

Dark and discordant, offkey sounds.

And all I could see was darkness all around.

 

But then I took deep breaths and disciplined my mind.

And I focused on the first good thing I could find.

 

I looked at the blighted wasteland.

and I sought a struggling flower.

 

I looked in my heart

and I found a struggling flower.

I planted a seed.

I watered it.

I smiled at it.

I talked to it.

and I told it wonderful things.

I protected it from the zombies all around.

 

And it grew.

From a flower a garden came too.

And from the garden came people.

And we nurtured trees,

...and removed disease

and healed the sick.

and we held down the slick

so they couldn't slither away

And the blighted land was transformed.

Starting in my mind.

and complete when we said "we"

 

Christopher H. Holte