RA ( / )

The Poor Rich Man

Lives in the world in lavishness, closed in the world of comfort
Not seeing through the window of many suffering in the real world. Selfish ate him whole and all he sees is himself now he eats in greed. He is rich in himself and poor at heart, you can't take your wealth to the grave.
Circled in a crowd of snobbish behaviour, but hugged by emptiness. Sits there with is his soul half eaten, counting his money with the smile of immorality.
He walks in the shoes of arrogance, stepping on the poverty-stricken. He thinks the unprivileged is beneath him, laughing unconsciously, wiping his feet in vain.

The sky darkened, as the grey clouds stirred towards the poor rich man's mansion. A large black bird flew on his window seal, walked silently towards the poor hearted man's bed
The bird sees the man sleeping in restfulness
The man wakes up with fear to see the bird with a life sized shadow of a man. How can this be, you're the one in my dreams I can't dream of anything else but you.
What do you want with me? He said anxiously
‘Change' the man shocked as he heard the deep voice of a man coming from the bird's mouth.
I'm the spirit of death
I've watched you through the window, you refuse to look through, so I sit at the window of truth.
I've listened to the mockery you see as your joy to your soul, laughing in offence, so I listened to your soul scream in silence.
I've seen you sit upon the height of your wicked ways, taking the empty, cold seat next to me, so I impel you off the stool of your happiness.
I've watched you commit blasphemy towards the ones who are rich in heart and poor in themselves.
Said death while being interrupted by the poor rich man
‘'It's just the way I am, I can't change that, born this way and I shall die this way, I'm not afraid of no man with lost bodies. I'm a rich man with strength and power, how dare you come here, in my home.
Death you're beneath me, I will not listen to your foolish talk.
I'll cover you in a cloak of sickness, replenish your ways or I will bring forth your last days.
I'll give you seven days to amend your crooked ways or I death and six other spirits will come knocking.
The days had passed by and the poor rich man repudiated to abide by the law that was set before him.
On the seventh day Death tapped at his window, bringing with him a cloak and it flew with him through the window and it stayed hovering by the poor rich man's bed. As he laid in a shallow sleep, woken up by the fluttering wings of death.
The poor rich man laughed, it was you foolish one?
A figure of my imagination, a confused soul, a torment weakening at the pity of me.
Call it as you may, I'm here to leave punishment for your sins, the sins you refuge to remove replied death, The poor rich man laughed.
And death replied; laugh no more, another small black bird with red wings, flew not a sound in his entrance landed on the bed. The poor rich man saw this bird had a shadow of an angel.
This spirit is called silence; he will eradicate your voice, silence shall be your music said death.
The bird turned into an angel without a mouth and touched the cloak and disappeared. A blue winged blackbird appeared at the window seal, flew on the floor in the middle of the room then transformed into a spirit of sorrow. The weeping spirit touched the clock and disappeared. The third spirit walks through the wall beside the bed, walking as though he had the whole world on his back, too fail to walk, touched the cloak and vanished. Are you not scared, said death and the poor rich man replied; I stand corrected it's nothing but twisted fantasy to get me to change, lying against pillows in amusement. He trembled as he heard the screaming from the spirit of pain, floating below the ceiling screaming. I saved the best till last said death, the spirit of pain touched the cloak and left.
Death picked up the cloak and rested it on the man's back as it disappeared, I cover your soul with this cloak. This is your last days of sickness, any last words before it steals your voice. It hurts like a million knives inside, a pressure on my chest and a weight on my back. Burning blaze in my mind, a cold fire circulates my body, my heart is dying. I take back what I said as he was about to apologise his voice went still, death said I've selected these spirits especially for you. I will return to take you soul from your diseased body, the man laid in bed in total agony for the rest of his dying days.

by Rachel Aurelien

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