Hilary Joy Brown
I wanted to see if I could feel the heat of the earth’s molten core in my limbs in my brain in the long winter’s night that threatened me now.
Is it like the sun and will it warm me? Or is it like the fires of hell that threaten and promote my trajectory into oblivion?
These were the questions I would have asked if I was given time. For in what universe do these questions exist if not in this one?
But time was no more and it seemed a crime to ask now that my life was almost gone, ebbed away in a cosmic spiral of loss. And what was the point of quiet dreams and pleasant streams and hills and valleys cloaked in flowers if my ambition could not enjoy them?
Where are the ones who carried the flag? Upon what lost hill do they march now?
Where are the drumbeat and the clash of the cymbal that announce their proud descent into infamy?
Across crimson skies bloodletting clouds pour down over the ground below. I hear the pronouncement of a war lost before it began.
Where are the lost ones? In what halls far beyond my measure do they speak now?
On what cloudless day did I wander into those halls to reject what they were trying to say, me, heckling from the back of those halls denying jeering deriding denying?
Across crimson skies my brain is splashed in banner headlines, save the dying save the planet save the poor the weak and the starving save you. I am selling you salvation.
Take the last train from the station disembark at platform 10 tell the station hand, he will be clothed in purple, that you have paid your fare.
You will see me there, my chauffeur driven limousine at your disposal. We will ride up into the hills to the highest spire and pray to the God of material joy material addiction material corruption and destruction.
He will hear us and reward us for our descent into hell. He will point out all that He has aspired to and all that He has gained and we will ring the church bell to announce our ascension into His heaven.
Copyright Hilary Joy Brown
