Things have changed suddenly.
Thoughts and feelings have decayed,
becoming fertile soil
for future possibilities.
A mysterious veil surrounds me,
free from judgment,
focusing solely on current plots.
The world's events are irrelevant now.
Interrupting volcanoes and hurricanes
cannot destroy this little faith.
It moves and merges
into another quirky theatre.
Here, the distribution and crossing
of societal roles proceeds smoothly
in a separate reality
free from negative influences of forces
without a purified purpose or goal,
preying on other souls
ripped apart and shunned,
copied by the future generations
to the high extent of guilt,
buried in the garden with the dog
and covered with white and orange zinnias for show.
---
Thank you for reading!
About the Creator
Moon Desert
UK-based
BA in Cultural Studies
Crime Fiction: Love
Poetry: Friend
Psychology: Salvation
Where the wild roses grow full of words...
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More stories from Moon Desert and writers in Poets and other communities.
Violence Begets
"Any last words, cowboy?" "None you'd understand, sodbuster." "Funny. That's Marshall Sodbuster to you. But I meant some last nugget that would help us in the adjudication of the myriad offenses counted against you and your gang. I wasn't asking for penitence."
By Adam Diehl7 days ago in Fiction
Comments (2)
And what shall spring forth besides zinnias from the decaying corpse of this dog? Something which itself be subject to the same frailties, falling to become fertile soil for something else to become.
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