The Reckoning
A reckoning, daring taunt bestowed
my weariness, a covenant catering
to the boundary, of self why I'd become
more open to resolve, life's issues
abundantly, as though life was simply,
a passing fancy, cleverly orchestrated
to be rehearsed, over and over again
while I'd gravely, excepted a single
faint hue, as a quaint challenge
flowing as a heavenly hue edifying,
a sheer witnessing, the pondering
whims that gathered beyond,
St. John Paul passages, of hidden
messages, morbidly explored casually
expressed, graphically in stone.
Copyright © Yolanda Nicholsen | Year Posted 2023
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