...and there was naught

i stepped onto my porch

and there was naught.

pale white engulfed my face

from left to right

up and down.

before and across

was bland and blank

chalky grass and sky

rocks and roads

homes and populace

cars and sounds.

stretching, i touched a fog

a veil o'er the eyes of all

in which the weeps and wails of Earth

bellowed like a pregnant cow

paining to birth

the life breached within.

i turned toward my house a-wondered.

is this a shell midst these i dwell?

is my life a facade against the mountain view

a front displayed without Christian depth?

this feels like Hollywood

and i'm an actor on her stage.

will Hollywood crumble 'neath a rumbling quake?

the fault-line abuts my walls

and i could slip into her jaws.

i touched the fog and prayed it weep

to wash the chalk blinding our lives.

*Thoughts of Theodore L. Prescott:

  -Crossing the border means that you are opening yourself to change - a risk that many people try to minimize by using some sort of guide.

  -...who you are to yourself privately is not the same as who you are in the company of others, just as you are different at rest than you are in action.  Others may access and respond to your actions, but they can only make calculated judgments about what is in the inner recesses of your heart.