On the chill of a moonlit night
I was awakened by the
Touch of some unseen
Entity..
Voices taunting me making
Me toss and turn
Shadows on the wall
Were like black
Claw fingers
Then the voices spoke.
" Your mind is nothing more
Than a hieroglyphic symbol."
" A cosmic trick
Of the god's"
'You were born of blood
And dirt wedded to
Bone and sinew"
" You were given a
"Taste of reason which
Shall vanish as a vapor"
You are quite simply..
Astronomically insignificent!"
Your aspirations are nothing
More than a rusty shovel
Leaning against an unmarked
Grave..
Death was mixed in your
Mother's milk from
The beginning..
I screamed out, " Go away!
You have no right to
Speak thus to me!"
But the voices kept
Taunting..
" Look at you! You lie
There on your rotting bed
And pour your imagination
Into unwashed socks.
Your long suit is an
Impossible dream..
You mull around in
Nothing more than worn
Out sandels, and a ragged
T- Shirt that reads, " I
Voted for Lady Godiva!"
The voices departed for an
Hour then returned..
"You are not a cosmological
Constant.. Don't you read?
It was in all the Sunday
Papers!"
I paused for a long moment
Then asked, " Who are you
Voices?'
They whispered, " We are
The voices of doubt..
Was it not you who called
On us in your
Midnight dream?"

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