The Tyranny of Reason – a poem extract

Faded paintings hang crooked from peeling walls.

 

Fragments of human worth, stolen from souls,

Heat me with their ill-gotten vicarious warmth

As I pace the corridors of the huge house,

Clutching them to my chest, litanies of life.

 

What secrets lay around the next corner?

None that I have found thus far, each corridor

Rounded bringing the shortest answers,

More questions than one deems possible…

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