THE BEARER OF THE NIGHT.
The house had me trapped, trapped bad,
Trapped mad, trapped a tad- a tad too tight;
There were dinner guests that night, the room was bright;
But the house became unto me the bearer of the night.
Painted faces, seemingly inhumane, though-
I was unsure of what they were here to gain;
Was it food or food for thought, or thought-
From me, “Am I scary?” I questioned internally,
As we sipped the wine and drank.
Drank to things they had heard, on the news-
This or that, those deaths, those children;
That fire and beautiful parade-
As I poured to each guest I guessed-
Of what their minds were truly made.
Of things, they had a lot, a gadget and a star;
Some had bought one named after them-
And some’s minds seemed so adrift and far that one they had become.
I was sharing this house, a tad trapped inside,
Though outside were their houses, their lives;
And to me it seemed, their houses too, were-
The bearers of the night-
For it was not their houses nor minds that elicited my fright-
But that the Earth was making her plight;
She will become, as some have said, as I have told you now-
A dusty red mess, with bodies laid unrest, void of light-
The Bearer of the Night.