THE MESSAGE HAS BEEN SENT.
There has been no reply. Is our savior indifferent, or is he merely a nonentity? I surmised as much all along. My early training in Sunday School did me little good. Never missed a single class.
If I am to survive, along with my hapless compatriots, it will be through the offices of deus ex machina.
Otherwise, we are doomed.
Are you out there? I've been calling . . .
An open door beckons, urging escape from my prison.
I stand at the threshold of promised freedom yet
cannot cross my mind's blockade.
I see Spring's newly leafed oaks, their canopy
glistening and swaying,
The forsythia and flowering quince all
abloom, yet . . .
Here I shall remain in my chosen
Dreaming of what I love yet fain