Dystopia
By Thanh Dinh
Drifting aloft the
madness,
The merger of
drunken flames,
A lost boy wondered,
What had he done
For Man to grant him
muscle and might
To find light in the
bleakness of the ruin.
For the hand that
dealt the torture,
Too, doled out the
hope,
A lingering essence
concealed
By the ashes of
fury,
And, by the rain
that smudged the picture
Of a perfect life.
Perhaps, it was a
dream,
Perhaps, in the wake
of the night,
The world should be
no more
The bird should
fall, the chicken should float,
The lion should
cease distress and sing,
To which Mother
Nature should too sing,
But the lion his
angry purge
And she her
swansong.
The night of a
thousand mysteries
was a night of a
thousand souls
That intertwined,
and danced,
And reveled in the
desperate strand of hope
That He had left for
them
When He faded into
oblivion