The Terror

The Terror came in midweek and sat upon the shore.

In the space that lies between, the beauty and the roar.

The strangers came to take me to a land so far away.

Nor one of them said for sure the time, they’d return for me someday.

There’s a distance in the whispering, that can’t be heard by some.

It’s quiet and it’s haunting with the soft beat and a hum.

It’s all that I hold on to when the madness comes around.

And I’m swimming in the waters where parts of me have drowned.

There’s nothing to be taken that is not of life or light.

Worth any more than spit or gold; it’s courage for the fight.

Sometimes when I’m sleeping they are reaching out somehow.

There’s so much more that I don’t know… and all we have is now.

Dennis Mantin

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