The failing flight
Of tribulation
the half fight of a gradient
Roads
That dip in
Gradually

The Little times of hurt

It, the road
It speaks

"Come and find us free".
"You be only half the way"!

For that is of it's course

But this pray I never be
The loss of rage
I've cleared a Path

An unobstructed trail
That I might to follow
Yet stubborn I to head
Lessons trepination holds

With least regard to caution

So lock and step, to and fro
Let it be and such it was
On tip of toe I follow


So mighty a callus made to faulter
By the glass that cuts the
Soul


This is my mighty reconning

Yet i still to follow

With no regard to Pain
is a pact
I dare not shake

I've That Path and Pain

With pity not to know.

So, Pity for tomorrow
While on and on i go.


Mighty thee my Foolishness that make for me a bed lies

Never to me, with truth in hand
Discarded and unwanted
Recourse for only the unclean desperation born of fears

The wailing of the things once
Owned

With a will of darked tone.

Of my flesh, the trip , the pressure.

The rug, the rash, the knee,  the kiss.

The sigh and solemn bliss.

And want for all of this, when I am only clay.

At the earliest moments
Of time.

The yester, yesterday.

So now I'll recollect,
forwarned narrow sight.
And see the blood, the fear,
the risk.
And count my every slight


For many years I threaded needles,
Dictating a yarn.

Spun of lies with silent cries,
And desicated eyes.


That found me full of nothing,
And emptiness the proof.

A bully to
you and me
The hope filled forfeit truth.

For this is fight, and nothing more with waning of our youth.

The endless pool of doing, with weary broken back.

For selfishly we hobble,
When steel we find us lack.

So on to the future.

With souls, we nought to the rack.

It best we set our sights to then,
And never stray the track.

Allow me to ruminate

I'll digest the cud.
While we chew the fat.
In the darkened woods.
Of what we shouldn't at.

Of a thing so wrong.
That we now lay to rest.

With shovel in my hand.
And course i see as best.

So I light a simple lamp.
And quite be my sound.

The guilt is in my heart.
And blood upon my hand.

Do all that i see fit.
Nore wash away the stains.
Of ownership, desire,

And newfound growing pains.

With such a different world.
So different in the calm.

When you can be a god,
And make the world obey.

He who stands for something is prone to prejudice.
He who is prone to prejudice
Is quick to act
He who is quick to act
Is ultimately destined to folly.

For it's said "He who stands for nothing".
"Falls for anything".

So, with breath held
And careful consideration
Ask yourself.

"What do you stand for"?

Is it natural design.
that your action is not of your
Making?


So much control, smacks of huberis.

Like a stubbed toe
On the best of days.

To a hew of dark of Green
To a hue of red

Those of timber
Stout of frame

Lay down there leafy bed

For the cold
Is sleepy day
And black of night
The sleep

Have they yearning
For the light
That daily
They upright