The old and musty tapestry makes up one wall
that divides us.
There are many who
seem to think and certainly appear rational
only when deluded by rose colored lenses.
Then there are those who
live lively in their delusions.
Don't they appear content?
As long as there is a wall
to separate each
from those who are mad, spirit empty,
heart broken, insane, perhaps ---

Their ears were not ready for the
sound of the tapestry tearing ---
The barrier was slipping -----
The landscape was crawling away -------
The communal sense of being part of "The Human Race"
departed the scene before the starter pistol
rang out the beginning of the competition.

Maggots squirmed where teeth should have been,
flies teemed across the faces
the faces seemed unclear as to what their role was to be.
Lizards slowly, softly created {almost} beautiful hairstyles
they were {almost} bearable to look at.
In the near dark they could {almost} pretend
that this side of the tapestry wasn't already so dark.

"Is it contagious?" they all wonder as
they shuffle down and back again
the well worn carpet lain over the well worn hard wood.

It didn't take the Watcher very long
to sense the presence
of the tormented and agonized souls
     while they tried in vain to seep through
     the tear in the Tapestry of Forgotten Souls.

The Watcher merely watched -
The Hidden silently wept ---


Written by Sharron Pettiford Gonzales
2002.