… And Darkness, my old friend, himself
opened the door to his house on my second knock.
He greeted me with a wry smile on his lips
and a glass of whiskey, in his hand, on the rocks.
With my eyes, bloodshot and swollen,
with dried out trails of tear on both my cheeks,
I tried hard to forge a smile as best as I could,
but my friend put his other hand on my shoulder,
ushering me inside, he closed the door behind
and said, “Do not fake a smile when you cannot laugh!”
The ensuing silence hovered in the air,
as we walked through the hallway to his living room.
There we sat across a wooden table, dark and round,
he gave me a knowing look and I heaved a sigh!
A soothing smile slowly spread on his face,
like moonlight spreads over a passing cloud,
his voice grew as deep and calm as the Pacific
as he said, “Why have you sought me out, my dear friend?
I see you are troubled by some thoughts,
tell me, what can I do to put your mind at ease!”
“It is a vision” I said with another sigh,
more audible this time and he squinted his eyes a little,
as if his world gets darker when a sigh is heaved.
Nevertheless I carried on, “that keeps recurring
every time I close my eyes to sleep.
In that vision I see, topless towers
burning hot and fiery red, falling down,
dragging me down with them into the pit below.
I keep falling until jolted out of my slumber,
bare moments before I’m engulfed in that flame too.”
“So you wake up with your throat parched and dry,
wishing somehow you had never closed your eyes.”
Said my friend, as if he was present there,
when I was trembling in my bed, in shock and fear
like the wreckage left by a vicious storm
after the haunting vision had raged through my brain.
“Yes, you are right,” I said, “but tell me please,
if you know of a remedy for my disease…”
“Of course,” He cut me short and said, “I do!
You need time; it is only time that can heal you.
I do not how much time you have remaining in your hand
but this I know, if you have enough you’d be healed, my friend!”