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May 2021
Mortal bonds, the chains of flesh.
Shackle a weary spirit,
to a crushing forlorn succession.
Of a failing in the means to find answers,
any action, is bound to be.
A fruitless endeavor.
Disquieted passerby,
one gaze into a jaded pair of hollow eyes.
As if viewing through a pair or stained windows
Of ornate painted glass.
The visage, like the empty pews,
of a magnificent cathedral,
of agonizing sorrow.
Oh that which never ends.
Blunting the edge of indescretion,
I will find no relief.
Ceaselessly lamenting.
dismally spiraling.
Into loathing self reflection.
Catatonically stricken,
by the crushing weight,
of divine calamity.
Ironically symbolized,
to illustrate a trend.
Bending will, I broke it.
I chagrined in disbelief.
Mortality, transcendence
Written by
James Ronald Moon III  27/M/USA
(27/M/USA)   
111
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