Something Mystical Tonight...

a very sick
soul,
emaciated
transparency
behind
a glass door

it manifests
itself
inside a sore throat
a dry cough
whooping
throughout the
night

depression time
anxiety grows
like five headed
dragons

this is no myth
this is real

you want to
cure the body
feverish and
thirsty
on pale hands
a shrinking
veins
webs of spiders
cover the
eyes

confess upon
yourself
be both
priest and penitent

be silent
sit down
contemplate upon
the goodness of
this universe

let your spirit
flow
and be washed
anew

it is not late
you can still be.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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