This Cloud of Unknowing

When will human beings finally stop playing along with insanity?

I saw the sea sicken & the winds decay
& the shy deer run to the mountain top
impelled by that strange force which
hunts the dull, blind minds of men

to impress gravity upon the weightless —
just as Noah in his day declared the rain.
The massman laughs — drinks his way into storm
waters, oblivious & long drained of vital awareness

foolishly trusting snake-oil politicians souls
long since surrendered to the Pied Piper’s
song — they know most people are children
in need of Daddy as Santa, Mummy as God.

‘It is safe, it is safe,’ he snivels, like the boy
whistling in the dark whose own tune
is never heard. ‘There’s no way they would hurt me,’
yet as the web tightens, you hear voices

begin to crack — still he whistles to keep up his
spirits as the tide rises & he gasps for air
moments before disappearing beneath the waves.
I could tell him water equates to the unconscious

world & he has long been drowning
but I learned that never works.
Besides, bodies soon change form — I see the fool
in that great Cloud of Unknowing awaiting his return.

Copyright Simon Heathcote

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