THE LOTUS-EATERS
What peaceful hours I once enjoy'd!
How sweet their mem'ry still!
But they have left an aching void
The world can never fill
-William Cowper, Olney Hymns, "Walking with God"
THAT MAN OF DIFFERENT FACES
SMALL
The light was blindingly bright.
After that came the darkness that could only exist in one's heart.
I opened my eyes and, somehow, the ground had managed
to rise noticeably close to my field of vision.
That, or I have impossibly shrunk.
Still unsure of what exactly had happened,
I dared look around.
And saw the impossible.
Everything else looked bigger.
And everyone had shrunk.
I looked down to my feet and refused to accept it.
I refused to accept that the annoying—no, infuriating—collection
of dust, pebbles, and minerals everyone calls the ground was
infuriatingly closer to my face.
I refused to accept it;
instead, I badly wanted to blast the whole chunk of rock into pieces.
With my gun in my hand, I know I could make it happen.
So I felt for the weapon under the cloak that
had materialized to drape around my shoulders.
Only…I felt one other thing wrong.
My hands felt weaker…smaller.
So I held my right hand up against the vast blue sky and stared.
The darkness started creeping in.
My right hand was small, just a tiny speck compared to everything.
And so was the rest of me.