The Bearded Man

I dream of far away places,
sitting in the sun
with blue skies and bright clouds
floating softly overhead,
birds singing sweetly,
as mighty rivers flow gently by,
then,
the dying monster reaches out,
dragging me back down
into his pit;

he does not want
to die alone.

Smiling,
he stares serenely into my eyes,
then pats my head
like the obedient dog
that I am;

“You have come far my jaded son,
walk with me just a little while longer
and to you shall I give everything
in all its dark and blackened glory.”

And if you listen hard
you can hear the buzzing
of ten billion ravenous flies,
coming to feast on all that is
or ever will be;

“The earth shall be rid of flesh,
freeing our rotting souls
from these prison walls forever.”

The bearded man
paid a visit last night,
silently staring into the future
he never said a word,
but the evil hanging in the air
smelled of death and fear;

I awoke in a pool
of terror and sweat.
.
.