True Horror

By Cliff Lake

True Horror

 

When the sun has bowed to the horizon,

That slip of orange fire,

A menace of near absence in flame,

Now the long shadows twist too dark,

Animate from sided sight,

Groping arms flat in the receding light.

Listen to leaves restless without wind,

Whisperers of secrets you do not want to hear,

A papery chorus made more clear in the dry air,

Speaking the chill come too quick.

What denial can you offer?

In the failing glow

What truths hold,

And what may be made real,

From the recesses of the mind and

The dark splashes grounded and grown deep.

The hissing leaves tell tales of gray,

The wavering glimmers confirm all and nothing,

Time is stretching interminable,

And all is unfocused in sharp detail:

A piercing fog reaching,

Enveloping,

Surrounding,

To carry your understanding away from you,

Leaving an empty husk of sensation only.

Why do you remain?

Is this what you wanted?

To be diminished to mere reaction minus awareness,

A collection of response without meaning,

A receptacle frozen in twilight.

This is the dangerous lesson:

That you can be removed,

And still remain,

A shell that feels,

Sees,

Hears,

Yet is powerless to act.

You did not choose this.

It was chosen for you.

This is the tale the dying leaves sing at you:

A possibility that you may exit this reality,

And yet live within it…

And that is the true horror.

 

Cliff Lake 10/16/2024

Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024

Location: Wichita, KS, USA

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

One Thousand Horsemen

By Cliff Lake
  One Thousand Horsemen   The call of an ally, A friend of old: “We ask your aid! Will you be bold?”   “Ancient terrors, Assail once more! Will you honor The oaths we swore?”   One thousand horsemen answer the call,   One thousand horsemen riding tall. One thousand horsemen, they prepare. One thousand horsemen, forth they fare.   “We have no word, Are we not heard? Are we forgot? Do you come not?”   “The terror hails, Our people quail! We are beset, Will you come yet?”   One thousand horsemen upon the hill, One thousand horsemen, duty they fill. One thousand horsemen make the climb. One thousand horsemen, are they in time?   “What do we hear? Is succor near? Have you arrived? Will we survive?”   “Hail faithful friend! Fear not an end! Our hope has come, Sound the war drum!”   One thousand horsemen, banners raised! One thousand horsemen, unafraid! One thousand horsemen, charging in! One thousand ho
Read more

The Edge

By Cliff Lake
  The Edge   Out on the edge… This is where we exist, A precipice, A future unseen and unknowable, An edge we constantly walk. Here on the edge, We step forward blindly, Though we tell ourselves That we have planned well, But the future, Has no regard, For the mere mortal. Walking the edge, We may not see, What falls lie before us, What chasms may claim us, Nor how deeply they lurk. But know this: We have the strength, To climb out of darkness, If we but dare the edge again. Fear not brother! You are your own savior, If you but make the merest try. Do not despair sister! The unlooked-for hand, Will reach for you yet! Remember: From the bottom, The only way is up. Forward is the only motion, Time is allowed, In this frame we inhabit. It is the step to the side, That carries you down, Out here on the edge…   Straight ahead then - The path is before you.   Cliff Lake 2/24/2024 Copyright © Clifford Lake 2
Read more

Used Up 'n Dried Up

By Cliff Lake
  Used Up ‘n Dried Up   You scurried away from your ancestral home, Let’s face it boy, you’re out there on loan. Your markers cashed in, no more favors to call, Winds of change blowing cold, house of cards to fall. Livin’ in a hotel, bumming dollars from the poor, Sellin’ your Chinese trinkets, maybe try it door to door. Your hands in everyone’s pockets, no more spare change for you, Keep on beggin’ at the dockets, that is what’s left to do.   “You’re on your own, kid.” That’s what they said. “You’re used up ‘n dried up; you’re bled.” “You’re out on the street, you’ve used up your cred.” “You’re on your own, kid.” That’s what I said.   Oh, how you fell hard for that dictator, A long-time, well-known master baiter. He always had you pegged as some petty clown, Just look at how he has jerked you around.   “You’re on your own, kid.” That’s what he said. “You’re used up ‘n dried up; you’re bled.” “Look at this crooked path that I led.” “You’re on
Read more