Your Poetry Dot Com - The Sphere

The moon was high with in the night,
When I beheld a lonely sight.
I came upon it without eyes,
But with a touch I felt its cries.
It was a globe of mist and due,
Of sweating glass both false and true.
I saw it there. I know I did.
But when I touched, from me it hid.
I walked about as if a moon,
While from my lips I blew a tune.
And as I watched it seemed to breathe.
Or did it pulse, or maybe seethe?
If what it did I am not sure.
Of what’s within, my thoughts did lure.
So to its skin I reached again,
And what I felt was more than pain.
The sweat upon it burned like tears,
Shed many times through many years.
So I stepped back to gather nerve,
And wondered what this thing did serve.
Then through its shell I heard a sound,
Like breaking bones or splitting ground.
And words, I think, I then did hear.
They said that I had come to near.
And as I wondered what they meant,
I touched again the tears it sent.
And with my sleeve a window made,
To find what thing within it played.
But what I saw was out of place,
It was a man the shadows traced.
A man like me, my eyes did tell.
Though I did find he came from hell.
And when the moon did fill his world,
His head did lift, his eyes unfurled.
With eyes so cold he barked a shout,
For me to help and let him out;
But though I tried I could not find,
A lock or key to free his mind;
And then that voice I heard within,
It told me of his life of sin.
It told me things I would forget,
Those chilling tails of murders debt;
And though I heard the words entailed,
I tried to break the sphere but failed.
I could not help myself that night,
For through his eyes I saw a sight.
It was a man, I saw, was me.
Or more correct, the he I’d be.
I knew right then my futures end,
The gardens that my soul would tend;
And then the sphere began to grow,
It reached for me though I screamed, “NO!”
But by it’s force it pulled me in,
Releasing him who’d paid his sin.
So here I sit awaiting time,
To play for me its morbid rhyme;
For I must wait till I am clean,
Though truth be known I thought I’d been.
So sit I must within this shell,
My liquid cage, my frozen hell!

© 2004
Michael David Morash
All rights reserved
www.michaeldavidmorash.net

This poem is Copyright Â© mdmorash