Siege
“What is that noise?”
The wind under the door.
“What is that noise now? What is the wind doing?”
“Nothing again nothing.”
A blustery day. The wind drives
its chill through the cracks
in an old, groaning house.
The voice of the world screeches:
I am here. Let me in! Let me in!
The same world you have struggled
so long to keep at a distance.
Wind and world persist like poverty.
Seeking safety from the outside,
you have tried to build castle walls
against a foreign, hostile world
in a small, shabby apartment.
Respite. Anonymity. Shelter from the storm.
Safety from the charms of money and women.
All effort in vain. Simply impossible.
No walls are thick enough
to quell the horrible screams
of this slowly collapsing century,
the frigid remains of the dying day.
The undead bang on the shutters.
No cat fierce enough to fend off tomorrow.
A mind too weak to live in solitude.
A body that can’t say no to desire.
Like a ghost of the future,
You am trapped by the tyranny of now,
listening to the wind beneath your door,
the conquering wind of time,
impossible to deny.
