Once I soared with eagles
     my guardian angel by my side.
Walking tall with confidence
     caused my foes to run and hide.

I chose my battles carefully;
     I picked the place and time.
If any son dared cross me
     I knew his *** was mine.

I remember ocassional setbacks;
     times when the going got rough,
     but the things that should
     only helped to make me tough.

I guess I thought there was a God.
I prayed once in a while,
     but I knew I didn't need his help
     to go an extra mile.

I rebelled against authority;
     took all the freedom I could get.
I could not allow myself to lose a fight;
     my *** ain't been kicked yet.

Needing victory in every duel
     became my prison cell.
As I leaned hard against the wind
     my soul set sail for Hell.

I didn't know it left me;
     I didn't see it stray
Fighting one last battle,
     it would just get in my way.

This battle was the hardest;
     it took five years to win.
Revenge and anger were my weopens;
     I wore them like a grin.

When the fight was nearly over
     and victory was near,
I prayed to God," return my soul"
     but He didn't seem to hear.

I'd look for without Him;
     this heart that I had lost.
I'd win it back all by myself
     no matter what the cost.

Now standing on the pinnicle,
     I fearfully looked around.
My soul would not have come up here;
     it's too far from hallowed ground.

Starting back down along the path;
     frought with struggle and with strife,
     I found I was decending through the
     wreckage of my life.

While pawing through the ashes
     of the bridges I had burned,
     I found the charred remains
     of all the lessons I had learned.

Confused and battle weary;
     I could not tell wrong from right,
     but I prayed that at the freefalls end
     there might be truth and light.

Now I'm lying in the smoke and fire
     at the crash site of my soul
     peering out through Godless eyes
     as a snake peers from his hole.

I should have had some warning;
     a shot across my bow
     but my spirit spiraled down and down
     and look where I am now.

Like a marble in a funnel,
     my soul spun 'round and down.
With a lack of positive energy
     it finnaly hit the ground.

Now I'm at the bottom
     With no way to go but up.
God, please give me the strength to feed
     my soul;
     your sacred wine to fill my cup.


This was the first poem I was ever able to
right. At age 56 it came to me in a dream and I got up and wrote it down.