This Thing - the end.

This Thing, it devoured us -
in the end.
It did.
Devoured, it did.

Got too big, escaped its box,
writhed away from our grip - 
twisted, whirled - swallowed our souls.
It did.
Swallowed, it did.

Dove into the fire pit - it did...
Gorged, glutted - gratified.
It was.
Gorged, it was.

Paradigm exploded -
scattered flames, soot and smoke
across the universe, and over the night.
The night.

Obscured the stars,
darkened the eye of the moon.
The moon.
The eye, the moon.

Our eyes stung, watered as
in the ash and soot, bent
under smoke's entrails,
we chewed on scraps of love...
We did.
Love, we did.

All that remained of our fire
from this time out of time, and out of place,
when we lost our senses, in a sense...
We did.
Lost, we did.

Danced for a while
under the moon, we did,
singing the allegory
of the campfire.
We did.
Sing, we did.

Danced for a while,
under the moon.
We did.
Dance, we did.

© Jennifer Phillips (All rights reserved)

Chris Hendren Imaging

This Thing
The allegory of the campfire
Dreamer's lament
The tenet of the heart
We'll be fine