The Price We Pay

From Pandora’s Box

She was blinded by its captivating elegance,

intoxicated by her own curiosity,

even when sworn to never open that box.

“Merely a bronze coated chest it seemed,

treasures and pleasures waiting to be discovered…”

That box was no prize.

There were no riches found within.

Instead, a vault forged to confine

the most wretched of evils

who only thirst for humanity’s blood.

These evils have resided in our air,

our vital, inescapable air.

Once fresh and pure by nature now

tainted with disease and sorrow.

Where is it safe to take my next breath?

All from one fateful misjudgment,

humankind had to endure the price—

Each and every one of our flames

that can blaze to be so remarkably bright,

cursed to be dimmed by an eternal draft.

Still, a beacon shines—

The lantern of a lighthouse illuminates

a beam of sterility across our wicked sea,

guiding even the most stranded of souls.

It’s a power which purifies all air—

Within us, we can find the light of hope.