The Children of the Night
by WILL FOREMAN AND TRAVIS DOW
Blurred streams of faceless women pour through doors
Of charnel houses. Passing by…the ghosts
Of Statehood, self-refined, column men
Whose lives are trapped within the troubled frame
Of nation-states that history leaves behind…leaves behind…
Our dreamer’s thoughts began to break apart,
Estranged, but still connected to the heart.
Dashed upon the rocks of sleep, to tell their story
They draw, from a distant shore, their glory.
I toss in restless slumber, drifting in
A dark and alien land where I am met
By strange suggestions, where I am put upon
By strangers asking questions…
Each part of man assumes a different mask;
Each part assigned to a devious task.
The play, now freed from the laws of light,
Proceeds by the rules of the timeless night…
“Which of your Gods will press that Button you
so cleverly created…?
“Might you be distracted while a certain virus is contracted… ?
Will you continue adding flames to wind…until they rendezvous within…?
The daily editor decides the news,
To shape the adult belief. The truth may lose
Until the Children of the Night come on,
In innocence, to act the fool till dawn.