This Deserted Street

...walking down this deserted street on rock-hewn shards tearing into blistered feet the journey may be arduous and so very long and the will may falter, the resolve may at times feel less strong but the journey proceeds ever on waging battle after minor battle, while the war of attrition rages on, never to be won the destination, the culmination of the tortured soul's journey may never be attained yet the spirit is infused with the strength, that from bitter lessons have been gained thus the walk continues, the ceaseless trudging through this at times meaningless life in joy, in misery, in the short moments of abundant plenty, and in the cold times of wretched strife so it may come to pass on some distant, faraway day when under the ground, in ashes we may lay what then is the consolation of things accrued and possessions kept when into this earth we shall return, to sleep like we have never slept so picking up the pieces from here and there the good, the bad, each one to share and then leaving this realm to finally depart back to the place where the whole saga may once again start thinking not of morbid thoughts, no, none of this is that way meant merely grasping the moments left, and in grasping them, to pause and think on how wisely they may be spent for once the end knocks as it shall inevitably upon the door and once the theatre of life's curtain drops to the stage floor the grand truth may be something beyond what these eyes can see yet the small truths may be the release that eventually set the caged soul free...