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Mar 2019
An inexplicable journey through the labyrinth of life,
crawling on my stomach to reach the final stop;
While growing a thicker skin to protect my alibis,
the candle's wick dims and flutters like raindrops.

If someone told me I'd be this lost and dejected,
when making a few wrong turns along life's path;
Perhaps I would've listened more intently,
not incurring this indulgent, hateful wrath.

On a large stone slab appears a missive sent,
through the ages of questionable morality;
Each carved out verse reveals a solemn oath,
which quenches an aching thirst for immortality.

Awkward years of stumbling toward the righteous,
always straying when the sound of thunder's heard;
Profoundly aware of solace found in soothing strains,
of songs supplying melodies without the words.

Wayward years of wandering past the holy gate,
which opens for the just and trusting throng;
I may have only scratched the surface of relief,
as I valiantly rise to seek the pure and restful calm.
Written by
Frances E McClelland  Hamilton, NJ
(Hamilton, NJ)   
89
   anna
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