Struggle XVI

By Andrew R. Duckworth

Two angels sitting
On the world’s shoulders,
One with glistening wings,
The other with charred scabs,
Both of them pulling on their end
Of the rope in an eternal
Tug-of-war.
One pulls towards the light,
The other towards a black hole-
The once living chipping off
And flying into the furnace.
Lies bleed in through whispers
In the dark and become
So pervasive that
The light of
Truth dims
From vision.
How long until
We’ve reached the point
Of no escape?
How long until
The once wise man
Becomes the fool?
How long until
The crazed laughter
Of Hell becomes audible?
The fool sticks out his hand
And admires the charred scabs
And grabs the rope to aid
The ancient enemy.
Yet, we have all taken
On the skin of a Judas
At least once in our
fleeting life.