Oneiro-manic
Into this world I, too, was borntouched—marked with the finger of God
upon my crown: a child of scorn
who fled to the rich land of Nod,
a land of hope and fields of corn,
of much to curse, and much to laud.
With angels, I called forth arcs of lightning
from out of the sky—and their power
in my outstretched fists was frightening.
But Nod's hatred, an evil shower,
obscured life's harsh but gradual brightening
of my childhood's most tender hour.
Then came to me a wraith! Though I
stole a full glimpse of the reaper,
by my side he just stood idly by
as I peered at him all the deeper;
then he vanished as I breathed a sigh,
frozen like a dead boy sleeper!
Poetry by Ngoc Nguyen
Read 237 times
Written on 2021-07-19 at 01:47
Tags Childhood Reaper Oneiros
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