The House of Glass
A purgatorial existence
In morning’s light shimmering
O’er the green knoll pass,
Spy’d the sparkle and glimmering
Of the homestead of glass;
Its glinting of stars
And veneer of moon,
Bely implications too far
To reveal so soon;
I lie in wait patiently as the day advances to noon.
Searing sun o’er head
Casts bright yellow rays,
Granting life to the dead
Long since past their days;
Seeking purpose ever sought
Acting on a whim,
These tasks but for naught,
Unbeknownst to them;
Doom’d to repeat again and again after the light grows dim.
Eve sees families gather
Once more round the table,
Speaking tongues and blather
Sadistic twist’d fables;
Monologues of fell
Sermons of the ill,
Diatribes from Hell
And tirades intent to kill;
’Til silence pierces the minds of all caught in the night so still.
