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Poem

Sitting watching the world, weary, contemplating life cold and dreary, 
Upon a rock within a mountain which I'd often tread upon before,
As I wallowed, spirit maddening, quietly there came a saddening, 
Much like a hammer's hammering, hammering on my very core. 
"It's another foe," I stammered, "hammering at my very core-
Nothing new, nothing more."

All these thoughts easily I render, like a drunkard on a bender, 
And each thing that I remember stings a little more than the one before.
Foolishly I stood there bleating to the darkness still believing, 
"All these feelings, they are fleeting, soon happiness will be restored,
Please let them all be fleeting, and happiness soon be restored.
I cannot handle too much more."

Fastened on my rock so dreary, in the cave my vision bleary,
Nestled within the familiar mountain, cold and damp, alone and sore.
I wiped my eyes seeing clearly, a ray of light, dim yet near me
Looking back I am nearly sure that the light was not there before. 
I'm sure I would remember seeing a light were it there before.
Darkness was there, nothing more.

From deep within me came a feeling, aroused by light my eyes now seeing,
That despair was only fleeting, a shadow whose presence I did deplore.
A menacing malevolent master guiding me towards disaster, 
Whose derisive mocking laughter will abate when I find that shining ore. 
These dark demons will cease to plague me near that golden ball of ore.
Of one thing, this I'm sure.

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