a crisis seems as lightning
our peaceful slumber to disturb
the negligent desires of our dreams.
dull to lights and forms
not hearing cries nor plaints forlorn
content with ritual and routine
it awakens life within, unborn.
It is the
who unannounced perceives the mess
upsets the balance of our life
reveals self-satisfied carelessness.
and shock are so naïve
malevolence and folly beyond belief
the weeds had long ago been sown
to produce the harvest of our grief.
the fall have been unseen
when along the precipice we had been
dancing, intoxicated for so long
asleep, content within our dream.
2002 Richard Sidy
March 16, 2002