Epilogue or The Convict’s Dream
A deadly plague of hate and blame
From Asia’s deepest regions came
And when its victory was gained
Each particle of pestilence
Had self-will and intelligence
And breathed in by humanity
It caused a mass-insanity
Inasmuch as one would to feel
They uniquely had the skill
Of knowledge quite unshakeable
All others being breakable
Each effectively obtained
A gospel truth divinely gained
God’s pronouncements set in stone
Theirs to spread and theirs alone
Cities were to madness driven
Villages and towns were riven
Businesses failed to run
And no one trusted anyone
Neither was a cure found
Nor shared belief nor common ground
The mass infected couldn’t see
In absence of humility
Families drove each other mad
Never-ending fights they had
Locked in permanent confliction
Tied in knots by proud conviction
Ministries abruptly ceased
Members every one a beast
Failing to communicate
Eaten up with mutual hate
Armies mobilised and they
Disintegrated anyway
Comrades turning on each other
Stabbing shooting one another
Food and water being denied
Animals neglected died
And on every farming plot
Crops unpicked were left to rot
All over Earth the virus spread
Till there were very many dead
And no one but the chosen few
Survived to start the world anew
*******************
On waking in a conscious stream
Of thought upon the convict’s dream
Inside my head I made a leap
To wide awake from sound asleep
And in the early morning light
I considered wrong and right
What Dostoevsky had to say
Seemed prophetical that day
With favoured views superior
We wade into hysteria
Remonstrate with all the rest
Convince ourselves that we know best
And as I think I comprehend
Yet still I question in the end
Pondering the chosen few
Who would they be if dreams came true?
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