Locusts – In the Darkroom of the Amateur Photographer

Flickering wings, a carpet flying far away
With strings of creatures woven in between
I see it drifting towards me
And hear the roaring of a million tiny pendulums
Cracking at each other’s sides forevermore
I take a shot.

Soon enough the sun is covered with a hive
And all the colors seem to fade away
The things we used to do to feel alive
Have lost their taste as these vile creatures
Feast on what remains from yesterday
I shoot again.

With forward looking sentiments
We forget the now
And live in worlds constructed from our fears
The world we’re forced to dwell in soon becomes
The very world of fears we sought to clear
Another click.

The locusts rally, the trumpets sound
And battle drums are pounded
The colors of the sun have gone away
And with it all the warmth has been disguised
Alone afraid in this dark room
I hold on to what little light I have left
A few pictures from yesterday
Over exposed and blurry
Bits and pieces of my mind
Crumble as I hide
The locusts eat away

And as our memories are devoured
I light a fire naked and alone
Throwing in the final batch of pictures
Fearing what will happen
When the light goes out
I take one final shot.