locked inside pandora’s box
I hunker down in a hawkish grotto
where nobody can find my prize
where the light of day
seems a light year away
and hound dogs
are just a figment of my imagination
there is plenty of food for thought
and sweet nectar can be tapped
from these ancient walls
measuring ten stories tall
adorned with objects
painted on throughout the centuries
exiled into this self-imposed solitude
I am at peace with my new mission
guarding the evils
locked inside this silo
hoping and praying
the world lives beyond its darkest days
april two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
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