Time's Scribe
by Michaelw1two
Mind’s deep permits, darkness’ caverns crave, I beseech of thee
one light defined in candled flame hides in that blue
profound indeed these depths despair; oh savage light, make bright
release these binds, of mind, of heart, of soul cleared true
substance beret, of loss, of life, of love; an emptiness unknown
holds bared, expose this will for breath, yet breathe I dare
releasing my wounded soul from bond, and so I rise prepared
truth said so won, this bloodied sword sings still; why care?
Wisdom’s solemn gain, one’s conscience bleeds the soul’s revengeful feast
flesh fresh these tastes, bodies burned provide these sordid treats
gnashing gnaw, upon which limbs; for I hunger so; who knew
allows this seat, this beggared soldier’s code and helm
tearing down the shadow’s loathsome twin, in thought I am but man
time’s scribe within this shell of flesh, and bone, and sin
rends thoroughly my heart, of things long passed, and of such to come
begins this mend, a final one of lost hopes blend
Healing once again, becomes that friend formed long ago and yet
my past is but that dim, of dew from wisdom’s clock
suppress’ such great shames, and pain; first sin’s remind of heart’s part
yearn tears life’s strength away, from battles wounds and shock
heaven’s lament, once treasured grain of sand laid low of time’s sense
resolve’s content, sup well upon each battered stalk
will rise my quest, release the key locked portals secluded door
completion myths abound, therein an ends set locked
Reflection’s tests, will anger win as compassion slowly dies
once unchained, will’s tense, of past or the future’s proud
mirror, mirror; alas my very soul’s respect for all life
life kept in peace, before conception’s inquest’s snide
rejection’s mean, suspicious wane and crossing winds now sing
meant forms, or shadow’s shear; I hear as all collides
face up this fact, this mourn, this sense, this reasoning of my blind
fulfilling’s acceptance; of truths I stand beside
Universal fears, an unclean world, this wound yet bleeds in sin
humankind’s distain; it’s distance glares out above
consciousness is an unconscious theme, from god away you’ve turned
crypts open wide, yet in sin you hide from his dove
decision, an easy prospects bet, that line is fixed enough
accept this simple word; the coming’s near, you’ve heard
rectify this, and clarify that, why wait, self’s knowledge hums
everyone pleads, but God why me; as that oven burns!
Oct 2011
Copyright © Michael Walkerjohn | Year Posted 2013
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