The Dream – A Prelude to Turq’s Drink

A professional,

an injury.

My duty,

through darkness,

dampness.

Feel my fear in the crumbled

underground city.

Steel grating,

protection,

yet it only adds to my fear.

The eyes in the dark

hate,

not only me,

they hate everything.

Finally,

unscathed,

arrival at our destination.

A healer,

brandishing a weapon,

I feel we are unwelcomed here.

But the professional,,

the healer,

together a warm embrace

and I know we are safe.

Healed now,

after days,

we return,

the professional and I,

Victorious.

The crowd cheers him,

mobs him.

For me there is nothing.

Jan 17, 1998

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