Was With the Last Priest
One more wilted flower
flutters slow in the breeze
As the last priest prays soft
down upon bended knees.
Waiting at Heaven's gate
with his heart filled with grief,
Is the one once so lost
in the guise of a thief.
Lives were spent in labors
according to a plan,
One stole for his fortune,
the other for the Man.
Traveled hard and lonely,
living from day to day,
Each walked with the shadows
in-between shades of grey.
Final minute’s ticking
through the bid for control,
One last theft of future,
one last word for the soul.
With the prayer past ending
and hands bleeding with shame,
The thief and this last priest
become one and the same.
Copyright © Daniel Larson | Year Posted 2012
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