Treasure Island

Dilantha Gunawardana

Ode To Narcissus

Anhydrous masks, veils of nonchalance
As Narcissus crucifies Jesus
Within the vacancies of the soul
Empathy suckled of her life blood
As apathy bloats like an obese cactus
Holding within her the succulence
Of indifference, of self-compulsion
When the man in the conscience
Is swallowed by the man on the mirror
Parading to the world the thorns of a man
Who only possesses a residue of humanity
When Jesus weeps from a spike piercing his ribs
When the last drop of blood drips out
Of the conscience, Narcissus sits on his throne
With spectre in hand and crown on the temple
Bathed in milk and donning golden robes
King to self, parading the glory of steel
What will rest forever uncorroded and unpealed
And in the evolution of time, Narcissus finds Nero and his violin
Playing music while Vesuvius erupts and lava flows
Down the arteries of time, burning the soul of humanity
Contagious fires of decadence
Burning until the gates of hell rise
From the playing fields of life
And all that will remain is the wail of a violin
Playing along to the music of rustling fire
Until a perpetual silence dawns
And the man on the mirror loses his 21 grams of worth
Narcissus with all his beauty and glory
Remained a mere mortal………..
On his deathbed

Submitted: Thursday, September 04, 2014
Edited: Thursday, September 04, 2014

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