A lost poem…..
There is no quiet time really….
No true running away so to say.
Lo, all of my time is spent looking….
For that mythical better day
Time well spent has no meaning for me
It just drags on like fettered chain.
A cruel master that harries man
Whom I beg to set me free.
I wear my chains of guilt with rusty yon gilded hue
Razor sharp links tear what’s left of this heart misfortuned
The heart whose strings have lost its music, has forgotten any old joyful tune.
The heavy cloak of mine finest regret… is long and black, glossy from whispered tears
It trails behind me dark and loud, tattered thread-bare from pain wrought years.
My feet doth trod this familiar road, a path lain with miseries treacherous stone.
Brick by brick I’ve built it, a mournful circle of grief and woe
The path is dark and flat, slopes so deep and slow.
There is no exit from this trek, nowhere else that I can go.
The regret is in my bones, the guilt corrupts this soul.
Trapped in this maze of my own design, a pitiful haunting low.
I’ve seen taunting light at times and melody just up ahead
I never reached it, though I’ve tried, when dragging this chain of dread.
I felt Hope once; He brushed by me in my dark
“Excuse me” Hope said, reaching out to steady my hand.
Now I know the wandering light I’ve seen.
“I’ve seemed to have lost my way” Hope says, a smile, mayhaps a twinkle gay
“Do you want to walk with me a while, I can find this path to our better day”
I pulled my cloak about my face and wiped a pity tear.
I clutched the man of hopes hand and gazed in his bright blue eyes.
“My dearest Hope, I’m sorry my old friend, but we can’t get there from here”