The pure, white stone of the temple
belied its age,
for it held within the polished marble halls
all the wisdom of the Ancients.
The young man whose duty it was
to guard the tabernacle
of the deity GREY MATTER,
performed his task with wisdom
far beyond his years,
seeing to it that only the most delectable, desirable sacrifices
were burned upon the Altar of Knowledge,
sending up a sweet smell of incense
to the demi-god's throne.
Then one fateful day a shining daemon appeared,
sweeping down dragon-like upon the hallowed halls,
spreading flame a destruction that scarred forever
the bleached stone of the temple;
toppling the image of the god GREY MATTER
and smashing it into ruins.
Then, in one final blow,
the daemon sacrificed the Caretaker upon the Altar of Knowledge,
and, tearing the dripping, living heart from his breast,
it wrote in blood its own name upon the polished white wall:
About me. I am 37, male, an ordained Minister-- and totally disabled due to Manic Depressive Disorder. I have had lots of medication, years of counseling, four incarcerations in mental hospitals, suicide attempts, the works. The diagnosis is not good: Bi-Polar II, with a touch of personality disorder. I've lost family, friends, job-- but my wife and kids stick by me, and a few people act concerned.
I've written poetry for years, and agree that it makes for good therapy. I have been lucky, you might say, I have achieved publication in over 50 magazines, 6 anthologies, and two on-line journals. Some of the magazines include UP DARE?, THE MUSING PLACE, POETALK, THE AUROREAN, FEELINGS, and THE LOST LIBRARY OF ALEXANDRIA.
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