Don't Look Up

Don’t look up from transient screens that keep your fire quenched. Don’t look up as manufactured dopamine salts open wounds of the mind while making love to the body. Sugar cubes dissolve into the dark roast as lukewarm thoughts crystallize into prejudice.

Don’t look up at the cosmos to question your place in the world, where our ancestors charted navigations and corrected a course toward their maker. Don’t look up, for if you do, you may see a convergence of nations in the high places warring for your life. Spirit guides constructing digital temples of worship– a marketplace, where currency is bought and paid for through time and attention.

Souls mounted on stages, pierced by needles with strings attached. Geppetto plays a hand as Godfather until the velvet curtains close. After worn-out tools become flesh once more decide to inscribe the final act on their wooden husks and hollow cocoons now discarded.

Don’t look up, cowardice and compliance hold an alluring glow when material value is indispensable. Where the pursuit of happiness down a yellow brick road keeps you latched to the milk and honey of impotent wishes from a never-ending story.

Don’t look up or you may feel the breath of dragons against the nape of your neck. Hairs stand on end as the sixth sense emerges. Before dreams deferred become realities vindicated– and Nile streams shift to a sea of red as we rip open the jaws of life that seek your head.

- H. J. Levon