The Prize

in the silent darkness

winter’s stiffness takes hold

as yesterday’s warmth

gives way to tomorrow’s cold;

the mist of time

shrouds itself

with a veil

of unseen sorrow

as mighty gentle giants

throw stones

at posterity,

crumbling it to the ground

to make room

for another concrete monument,

the children listen

to the voice

of their colored god

and it tells them

who they are

and where they’re going

and how to get there

and why it must be so;

and it helps them to forget;

seven hundred feet below,

the end quietly waits

in a world all its own,

just like a prize

in a cracker jacks box.

.

.