The metamorphosis from good to evil

12 Oct

The metamorphosis

Today the messengers arrived, the flies,

they nestled into my flesh and

with their soft lullabies, promised

to show me all their secrets.

They whispered:

The secret is  that there is none,

the prophecy of life is death,

and at the end of everything

you find no comfort, no golden spring

to revive the fool’s hope that was left.

In death, there is no gates of God

or Taj Mahal, your gilded tomb

is to be but rotted roots,

twisting you into nothingness.

At these words, I cried.

For I wanted but progression,

my life was ruled by the future,

tomorrow was my guiding present.

The flies, my faithful friends, consoled me.

And into my tears and festering fears

they laid their eggs of wisdom.

They commanded:

Guard this plantation, beg it to grow,

water it so, very gently with your tears.

Do not fear the night of your life.

You’re now the guardian, the secret keeper,

the wisdom seeker, and no years can

shatter you or turn you into black matter.

Foolish, I watched the weed to grow,

the plantation to blossom into harvest

and at the eleventh hour, a shadow

arose from the buzz of the flies and

from their lies, a temptation.

It made my heart its living room

and scoffed at me:

I laugh at you decaying human, for

your simple love is of mortal fashion,

it knows no true passion, it is no source

for Shakespeare, it is not the fear

in people’s eyes as the earthquakes

rock them, and fire rots them.

I laugh at you, withering in your

lust for power. Oh,  to do good, you say.

But that lust is too mellow and soft,

trying to enter shadow but pettily

ending into yellow.

Lust knows no good.

And the flies, your faithful pets,

are only spies of death in disguise.

They’re mine. And in you, they planted

what I intended, a heir for my crown.

For that is your wish, and it shall now

be granted, without a fight. Take it as a gift.

Be the Napoleon reincarnated, the final

conqueror, the conqueror of death.

Be my twin, for I too was once like you,

loved life with my simple mind, afraid

of the final curtain call, for the death

to fall and blind me, to cover my eyes.

I too was once like you, too much

alive. I am your lost doppelganger.

I wished not to rest in peace

but to guide and lead. I wished to be

the flutter of the leaves, the autumn gust,

the lovers longing that never leaves

his bedside. I wished to be all.

Like you, I too wished to be,

to go on, forever.

But my immortal duty was not

a fortune, it was a promise turned

into torture, and now I hand it to you,

your wish granted, my heir.  I go on,

to nonexistence, and leave you

to spread the illusions of utopia.

You’re now the shadow of love.

To be the shadow of love

is to be a bitter and lost dog

forever on the trail of good,

never gaining the distance.

To be the shadow of love

is to be forever.

This poem is an answer to the two very wise pieces written by Davin Emeron in his blog, find them here:

http://davidemeron.com/2012/10/12/

Huge thanks for the inspiration!

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3 Responses to “The metamorphosis from good to evil”

  1. David Emeron October 13, 2012 at 8:20 am #

    Beautiful writing. I am impressed; And honored.

    This is a fairly lengthy work, however; not so compact as mine, I believe I will have had to have plumbed the depths of it for a longer while before I may know, speak, or write anything more. My old neurons do fire but slowly, but they usually don’t disappoint me completely.

    I will say that reading it out loud brings out a wonderful quality, soundwise, in this very thoughtful piece.

    • daydreamdaisies October 13, 2012 at 1:41 pm #

      Thank you! I’m really glad you enjoyed it! My poems do seem to be quite lenghty at the moment, they tend to take the form of stories in my head even.
      I’ve loved our little chain of posts very much, so thank you for that. It has given me a lot to think about and inspired me!

      • David Emeron October 13, 2012 at 1:49 pm #

        You are quite welcome

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