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...
Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013
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