Poetry / I ask myself what saves my life.

I ask myself what saves my Life;
Reason’s corpse hid in the night?

Reason told me yellow-eyed,
“A wretched Life should prob’ly die.

Harm can only come of one
Whose turning eye and forkèd tongue,

Whose face of paste and marble hue
At once is here and bids adieu.”

Life cantered over bush and brook,
Lane and bridge with mirth were shook.

Hope’s beyond the distant stile,
Forever further, mile on mile.

Life raced on until its humour
Curdled, twisted to a tumour.

Perhaps a passing gorse bush sank
Needled thorns in this soft flank.

Pain grew short sharp pricks inside;
Sorrow washed in desperate tides.

Joy’s sweet flight was not yet crushed
But pain and sorrow’s shock were such,

That life began to see it so;
With that thought, so Joy did go.

Life, now bloated like a carcass tumbling in the waves,
Floundering, drowning, with quiet breath said, “Will someone not save?”

Reason, lupine trickster whose light is naught but shade,
Slithered subtly from Life’s hoof, and body, to her face.

Reason told her, yellow-eyed,
“Wretched Life should prob’ly die.”

How dare he hide such villainy
Twixt circled teeth of sophistry?

I, then, to save my Life,
Killed Reason like a vengeful knight.

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