Dawn
At the heart of the crater,
Stood a statue of gold.
The pilgrims came in the thousands,
To adore their gracious God.
To touch his feet,
Utter in elation his name,
Praise the fabled works he had done.
“He smiles on us, He smiles on us!’’
Was it a peasant or priest?
The fire burns the crowd.
The idol’s mouth opened,
And endless riches rained.
They feed the flames,
The crater is red again!
“He loves us, He loves us!’’
The statue rises, its devotees submerge,
“Take us on your flight, take us!”
They jump for salvation,
Climb on their kin.
One embraces the Savior,
But is terrified from what he sees.
Though covered by blood,
The truth he can’t hide.
That visage belongs,
To the only son of his father,
The first and last born of his mother.
Turns to witness the sun fall,
He has never seen such colors before.
Drawn towards them, he starts the climb,
“Death Awaits, Death Awaits!’’
The last of the pilgrims shout.
For him the crater is behind,
He is in a race to catch the sun.
A thousand holes ahead appear,
A Brave New World is near.
From my book Morpheus
