by John Gregory Myers

Created on: November 15, 2008

I thought in mind that it was endless,

The remorse, the agony, the pain.

But was it my soul was thirsting?

For gesticulate understanding

Of the knowing of self?

One cannot assume the rest stop where

Lingering birds fall to rest;

It is and what shall be.

But in its own nature there is compelling of being;

God's premeditation of purpose.

In only a glimpse if see the dark faces of humans.

Oh, how I wonder the nature of their parts from dawn;

Is there purpose in this as well?

There is, perhaps, and answer

But on this road, it cannot be so.

No answers are revealed,

Yet then, the answers are within us.

Searching of them, they shall nay be found.

Through actions of Man may lay free will,

But does "free" darken thy soul?

Never lays a man, thus true of heart

Whom wears a gray coat of a dusty past.

He lingers on in apostate rest,

Yet in persistence, he wears the cloth.

I have never know such a man,

As I self-absorb my demons.

But until it's time for my soul to barren,

I, too, will accept this congent.

A cleansing - -

As I will adorn this duty garment.

Learn more about this author, John Gregory Myers.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.