Whose Vagabond
What fortuitous pittance shall fate,
Afford this fiddle heart-
And render its fracture walls fixed?
What greasy charms-
From God's blessed bosom
Shall beguile her resolute hand,
A dark path to alter,
And sway my fall into the abyss?
In wonder do I ponder,
Whether the sum would suffice,
To lose my soul to the darkness-
For eternity to be;
But for in a momentary bliss bathe?
The Gods' Vagabond.
Copyright © Matiba Aaron | Year Posted 2016
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