Up From Depression

There is nowhere left to go but up
from here. Mystery, unopened void
of misery - becoming more and more
an ordered form. For we have faced
the fear that lies so deeply hidden
in humanity.

Never specified into one threat;
conglomerated, fear become a nasty,
tangled mess. No, don't move too near!
For you are one of them, the others, that
might yet come to bring some sort of harm
to me. Spurious and undefined, fear seemed
to make us climb too high, too fast.

Anxiety would build and wind the
spring another notch. Swarms of
people came and went, yet we just
sat and watched them pass away.
Erudite or street-wise fool, it mattered not,
for they might come to hurt you somehow,
in some vague and passing way. But now
the dingy prison walls are falling down at last.
For we let down our guard, just long enough
this time around, and found the mystery to
be within.

Invisibly, we passed into another atmosphere;
the living dead are moving in their sleep.
A moan, a sigh, an ecstasy - it all abides
here in the misty majesty. A scream, but
without startlement. We must move fast
to run away from soul. Hard and bitter,
passing without feeling anything; when
suddenly a sight of verdant green upon
a yonder hill just stops us in our tracks.

And the moaning, writhing bodies disappear.
Sky of blue alive with drifting fantasies of white.
Fruit so ripe and succulent, just dropping
from the trees. Free - it's all so free -
and so are we...

? Michaelette ?

11/18/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home...