Calvary: Part Iii
As a child growing up, I roamed the woods,
Where loneliness used to tear me apart;
Much like the void that now fills up my heart,
Fear and despair are perennial goods.
A putrid miasma wafts through the dark,
And I suddenly know that I decompose;
Death whispers to me as I lie in its throes,
“Time’s arrows are never too wide of their mark.”
What of this dreamscape, how long will it last?
And how can the darkness feel so sublime?
The flash of seconds committing their crime
Murders the night before a minute has passed.
Gone is the darkness, soaked up by the sun,
Now much more than mere limelight in heaven;
Little by little the light works to leaven
The fog of the path I dreamed I had run.
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