What’s that you’ve settled for?
What’s that you say?
From the library of excuses
You reason away
It seems almost this
But never quite that
As the present escapes
And you look further back
No comfort to take
In that notch on your gun
As you fire in vain
And continue to run
But you say it’s enough
It will then have to do
You repeat what’s been spoken
Never anything new
And you look for a club
Others thinking the same
To plead their excuses
Blaspheme and profane
But alone in the vestibule
A soul fires away
And speaks about life
And its maxims today
His message reoffered
But again you look back
The last sinners you follow
Leaving motherless tracks
Your death now committed
To the lies that you’ve told
And your headstone engraved
With letters that scold
Once eternity beckoned
With your eyes looking up
And drawing strength from it
You drank from its cup
But that story’s been told
You’re alone in the ground
Scant little reminder
You were ever around
As your bones become dust
To be reclaimed by the wind
Those excuses you trusted
—your original sin
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2014)
Categories:
reoffered, life,
Form: Rhyme
What’s that you’ve settled for
What’s that you say
From the library of excuses
You reason away
It seems almost this
But never quite that
As the present escapes
And you look further back
No comfort to take
In that notch on your gun
As you fire in vain
And continue to run
But you say it’s enough
It will then have to do
You repeat what’s been spoken
Never anything new
And you look for a club
Others thinking the same
To plead their excuses
Blaspheme and profane
But alone in the vestibule
A soul fires away
And speaks about life
And its maxims today
His message reoffered
But again you look back
The last sinners you follow
Leaving motherless tracks
Your life now committed
To the lies that you’ve told
And your headstone engraved
With letters that scold
Once eternity beckoned
With your eyes looking up
And drawing strength from it
You drank from its cup
But that story’s been told
You’re alone in the ground
Scant little reminder
You were ever around
As your bones become dust
To be reclaimed by the wind
Those excuses you trusted
—your original sin
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2014)
Categories:
reoffered, sin,
Form: Rhyme