IT was a quiet assault like a brain pinprick;
when they came.
A void without emotion, feeling and humanity.
INTO MY MIND and SOUL.
Like a brain freeze and the ugly grimace
while wishing it to quit. But more. Severe.
LIKE trillions of bugs eating my mind
; a billion crashing waves ebbing away
the shore of my humanity!
THEN IT WAS DONE.
I wrote to Margaret Bourke-White, a photographer
who wrote and photographed WAR in the 1930s
although now dead but not then as I am not dead
here but will be-was.
Within a Multi-verse there are an infinite
number of parallel worlds and an infinite number
of you’s and me’s.
Each multi-verse self-contained; some without
me’s and you’s; some with us all and some
cocoon universes without anything.
LIKE MY MIND at this moment.
But, not now; ‘they’ come from everything.
Insidious and hungry for light.
:: 01-14-2018 ::
E.P. Robles | Poetry 