Sometimes it all comes down to how you look at your world |
Prismatic Perceptions The sky blackened with roiling clouds, slashed with shards of lightening, heavy with stinging dust-bees. Would it ever be blue again? Would the sun ever again rise to skies not stained blood red? Ever since that day weeks (or perhaps, months) ago now, when the Politician’s words grew full of fury and unleashed atomic arguments, it was rare to feel the sun to see blue overhead. Crawling through the rubble from my cave in the old library up to street level is always an adventure. I have different routes Depending on my mood, the time of day-- Day almost being a loose term— it is always dark, or mostly so. I have been sick lately. The old man says I have radiation poisoning. I had cancer before The End, radiation treatments every other week. Now radiation will kill me before the cancer ever could. I reach between two chunks of ragged concrete For a slim, dusty length of metal. What good is a kaleidoscope without any sun? The urge too strong to resist, I wipe the lenses clean with filthy shirt, and lift it to my eye. Colors swirl, life dances, caught where no dust can penetrate. Bits and pieces of colored glass Fall as gravity defines design. Vivid blues crest, break against the life-giving greens. Shocked, I lowered the kaleidoscope And realize there are blue patches in the sky. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Kaleidoscope crawling through the rubble Emotional 38 lines |