Dissected Dove (The prism of love) by joseph hope

Click HERE to Read Joseph's Biography on the Nigerian Writers Database.

At one time it would mold you into a polished gnome
And balance you on a floating shelve
Sometimes into a color bathed butterfly with a delicate wing
Under a sky without a gravity pull
 
Sometimes it comes like a cure
To a long night of faceless plague
Sometimes like a black mist
Yet so revealing

Sometimes it comes like a voice
As swift as the hoofs of a running horse
Sometimes it clothes the soul
Luring it out from it eternal hole
 
Sometimes it shape-shifts you into something
Without a face, without limps—a living ball of mass
Sometimes it plucks you into a virtual hole
And put a lid over it
 
Sometimes it brings you into a room with no door
Making you gnaw on your bones in horror
Sometimes it in sculpts you into an unfeeling angry Angel
Fallen from his invisible throne
 
Sometimes it opens up a portal in your sixth sense
And lead you to the homes of ghosts, devils and their darling demons
Sometimes it appears like your almighty savior
But in a black cape, red horns, holding a white flag and a loaded shotgun