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HOW THE LIGHT FILMS OUR VANITIES
HOW THE LIGHT FILMS OUR VANITIES
Just as the sunfish flashes his light to the reeds below, our
Vanity glimmers misguided notions lighting up the pages
Of a dark book. Moonlight slips inside our closed eyes.
Vanity is like a drug hiding secretly in the serpent’s house;
All the vain loved it and drank it all the way down to the
Serpent’s tail. There is no mildness of pride in the dregs.
As we float in the shadows waiting for the light of heaven,
Our mouths open wide to flatter only the endless images in
The Hall of Mirrors to be later smashed in the House of Lament.
Our shrieks of delight comes from the fallen thuds of prized
Kills as the light from our vanity kills the bulls on the surface;
The prizes of those killed mounts adorn the walls of our pride.
There is nothing in our dark book but goodbye to innocence and
Modesty; hereafter, a drowsy numbness pains our senses and the
Only thing we can feel is loud guns and cries from the place of war
And, from the spoils of war and shattered peace, there is further
Adornment on the pedestals of our vanity and the catharsis of
Widows are banned- sent to wailing walls far from our present gaze.
In between the clapping from the tally of pride lies unheard the regret
From all the rash profit we attained as the light filmed our vanities. None
Of us are free from knee bending when our names are read in the dark book.
