Zombies-version 2

Zombies (version 2)

There comes a time when dreams have turned to dust,
And humans lose their passion and their lust.
Then what they do, they do as zombies might—
Or robots—not from choice, but since they must.

Bereft of purpose, shorn of meaning’s might,
And so of all the vigor these had lent,
And lacking vision, robbed of thought and sight,
As husks, they know not where their kernels went.

******

What acts or words or thoughts can break that spell—
Release them then from that robotic hell?
They ask this question, with the ardor left
That wills can muster, from within that well.

They ask the question as a prayer, plea—
To find the clarity and wisdom then
That gives them sanity and sight to see
The path that takes them back to being men.

******

But then, they might at times remember this—
The precious thing that zombies surely miss—
Those moments, scant, retrieved from memory—
Those instants past of pure, essential bliss.

What presence then, except that essence fine—
As walls dissolved and pain had ceased to be—
That taste and scent, as if of fragrant wine,
That even zombies know, who once were free.

2018 May 22nd, Tue.
Brooklyn, New York