My world is enflamed
Buildings crumbling, babies crying, sirens wailing
The backdrop looks like a scene from Game of Thrones
The setting is none other than my circumstances, my life, my mind
A battlefield no doubt, and surely I’m running for dear life
Knocking on the door, hands to my knees, panting, as I wait for a response
A bomb is dropped, putting the earth to a spastic convulsion
I bang on the door
No response…
Shrills as high as the sun at noonday pierce through the fog
I frantically drum on the door, still no one responds…
Alas, a crack – the door open all along
Pushing my way through presents a sight to behold.
A sleeping man
I’m talking all cozied up, loud snoring, deep asleep man
My battle scars and dirt smudged face juxtapose his clean shaven, and perfectly chiseled face
Not a wrinkle in his gown, not a crease in his brow, not a tear in his sandal
Beneath his pillow peeps a palm decorated by a nail-sized scar
It’s Him!
The one with the whole world in the palm of his hands, the one they call Messiah, the one I call J
Wait a minute, if He’s slumbering, my world crumbling…?
Tucked in the corner, a queue of soft cushions lay – waiting
Expecting my arrival
I shut the door, leaving a crack
A sweet hum intertwined with rhythmic snores remain now
Two cushions: one underneath my head, one between my knees
My world is enflamed
Buildings crumbling, babies crying, sirens wailing
The backdrop looks like a scene from Game of Thrones
The setting is none other than my circumstances, my life, my mind
A battlefield no doubt, and surely I’m sleeping like a baby
J drooling right beside me
Merry Christmas everyone!
