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The Man Who Wasn’t There The gardens of Babylon are no more. Their memory is a desert mirage shimmering in the fate standing before the ruins that hide all forgotten gods. Wars sweep over this land in bitter tides, carefully removing the evidence of atrocities and new genocide for the purpose of future innocence. The real cost of conflict is not counted by politicians who measure success by reports of obstacles surmounted and numbers marking death’s distant progress. The man who’s never known a battlefield condemns others to die without appeal. By W.B. Spillman Jr. September 11, 2001 Within the walls of disbelief, a child weeps, the sky is cold blue, and the world is no longer bright and new. By W.B. Spillman Jr. The Gardens of Madness It is very easy to find a pathway through the gardens of madness in the daylight. The entrance and the exit can both be seen clearly and the only sound is from the wind. When the skies grow dark and vision dims, do not believe you will remember the way back to sanity. The statues and monuments will come to life and make patterns of chaos. The wind will sing and promise everything if only you will enter the greater darkness to have your will seduced into wild ecstasy and be replaced by subservience to anarchy. The stone griffin will offer a smile in greeting. The brass serpent will coil around your mind and the fist of the iron monkey will salute you. You will believe everything they say is true. Sight will return but it will be much too late. You will have become madness but madness will not become you. The world outside will seem to be an enemy you never knew. by W.B. Spillman Jr. |
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