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"unquenched" poems
Our  own meeting has no end , no outer shell, it does not float. It only searches within its depths to find a bottom to pitch its anchor and looses itself within the  colours of an ever changing earth. Without air it gets carried away and shines like a fire, unquenched and remote from evil tongues and envious eyes. Ostracizing dark thoughts and delighting within its womb. It remembers from always and lives on  forever and within the moonlit dust it travels upon wings. An aura which is immaterial and wonders intoxicated it sings you an icy lullaby..
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Nov 7, 2014
Nov 7, 2014 at 4:07 PM UTC
OUR MEETING
Over the sands of time you’ve travelled. Across the ocean of life you’ve sailed. Through the fog of daily worries, Your unfailing love’s prevailed. Your light shines from within, Brighter than the heavenly sky. The fire in your soul’s unquenched, The flames one can’t deny. Don’t measure your life in years Nor by the number of breaths you take, For we’re blessed by your resounding wisdom And the memories you continue to make. In your footsteps I wish to tread, I want to grow in your direction, To mirror your warmth and kindness, Your honesty, integrity and affection. Your life is truly remarkable, A lasting legacy you’ll surely bestow. Let’s joyfully sing your melody And forever bask in your glow. Although you’ve entered your twilight years, So much you’ve done is unsung, But in your heart, for all eternity, May you be strong, radiant and young.
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Mar 26, 2021
Mar 26, 2021 at 1:03 AM UTC
A poem for a mother’s 80th birthday
In this river while rowing your boat hey there ! you hasty toad you did not check for the banks and flowed through the ranks the trees are not anymore by your side like before the birds don't sing here no sign of land far or near in your attention for the twists and turns like you ignored the face and saw just the sideburns you were driven by an unquenched thrist you repent what you left behind, now hurt fishes so big, in this depth, your heart is now sunken, in search of sweet happiness you have reached the *salty ocean*
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Jul 3, 2015
Jul 3, 2015 at 11:59 PM UTC
When ambitions take over us
This is what animates me The force to set the motion of my soul Gears that grind, thoughts that whir, the sustenance of something holy. I do not think I sprang from Adam’s Rib I think I must have been struck into the ground like a stone A thread of lightning from the leaden sky, And the mechanics that rose after Demanded fuel, demanded heat And thus was born in the cooling core of me This mad desire, this stumbling, ceaseless search For words to light a fire in my head For eyes to light a fire in my bones For some weapon of beauty Some flaming sword A tool- nothing more- To sift among the dust and grit of time To stoke the embers and evoke a spark Prodding, prospecting As for gold Searching for a remnant which still burns Softly, feeble, buried but unquenched I chase the fire For it must always be: It cannot die But cannot be held It is escaped and never captured, Only felt and lost, an infinite second- A running step to overtake itself.
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Jan 30, 2018
Jan 30, 2018 at 4:01 PM UTC
Eve
The pierced ego sees through an opaque lens; a vestige of hope, humor and   intellectual solidarity. Effigies of forgotten ethos, the culmination of a fated dream; unrequited ardor, abandons identity to an irreducible fervor,                       subtext of tension,                     enduring ****** privation; etude of a paramour ending torture, tasting mystical polarity. The wounded heart once intruded, bleeds effusive; the ornament of humility. Flattened collateral damage, primal search, proves illusive; portals of hurt, slivers of pride, assembled fragments of thereness absorb the loss of my English muse. Poetry and devotion punctuated murmurs of piety,   depth perception virtue unfound; expectation - access to suffering;   disinterested love present,   desultory carnage of rescission,    absurdity personified; euphemism of adieu, the sound of no sound. The discarded image finds no favor, the salt lost it's savor unquenched thirst; desire of diminished purview, the saporus stream deferred; vision eclipsed; saturated self hidden in the text. Poverty asks the question, absence summons ethereal substance merged into the immanent frame; integrating, in solitude signifying, mediating - logos contested the humiliation of the word. Lyrical enigma, where did I go? provisional personality scorned, renouncing nostrums of the prosaic, surrenders to the the realm interior sovereignty assumed in provenience, native horizon of the next. ©2008 & 2011 W.S. Warner
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Sep 3, 2011
Sep 3, 2011 at 6:11 PM UTC
The Humiliation of the Word
The pierced ego sees through an opaque lens; a vestige of hope, humor and   intellectual solidarity. Effigies of forgotten ethos, the culmination of a fated dream; unrequited ardor, abandons identity to an irreducible fervor,                       subtext of tension,                     enduring ****** privation; etude of a paramour ending torture, tasting mystical polarity. The wounded heart once intruded, bleeds effusive; the ornament of humility. Flattened collateral damage, primal search, proves illusive; portals of hurt, slivers of pride, assembled fragments of thereness absorb the loss of my English muse. Poetry and devotion punctuated murmurs of piety,   depth perception virtue unfound; expectation - access to suffering;   disinterested love present,   desultory carnage of rescission,    absurdity personified; euphemism of adieu, the sound of no sound. The discarded image finds no favor, the salt lost it's savor unquenched thirst; desire of diminished purview, the saporus stream deferred; vision eclipsed; saturated self hidden in the text. Poverty asks the question, absence summons ethereal substance merged into the immanent frame; integrating, in solitude signifying, mediating - logos contested the humiliation of the word. Lyrical enigma, where did I go? provisional personality scorned, renouncing nostrums of the prosaic, surrenders to the the realm interior sovereignty assumed in provenience, native horizon of the next. ©2008 & 2011 W.S. Warner
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The flash flood of euphoria, is swallowed by the thirsty ground, eternally unquenched. I will smile, and fix my eyes on the desert sun. I will grow roots and bloom, an endogenous cactus, while envious drifters lick the sand, desperate for a drop of rain.
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Sep 25, 2020
Sep 25, 2020 at 11:58 AM UTC
Dopamine
Treacherous tongue. Warning unrung. Nothing will tire This unquenched desire. Consumed and yet not. A battle little fought. The huge, the puny- Platter’s destiny. Tresspassed precinct. Animal Instinct. Fire in the belly. Encore. Gluttony.
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Dec 23, 2012
Dec 23, 2012 at 6:39 AM UTC
Gluttony
River Song _________ As flow of cosmic creation She streamed down from sky Entangled in the web of icy locks Lovingly nestled mountain’s arms As she flows, her young heart Hopping, skipping and jumping Stone to Stone Some times in streams of unending games Sometime turning into falls As she grew, in warm shadows of icy peaks She lingered in warm hugs, within watchful eyes Softly glowing in the warmth of love, Living, dreaming in laps of belongingness Yet, times moves on, on and on Slowly, she finds her way out of this intense hold Out in the open fields, and in gentle sway As icy peaks held themselves away She flowed on and on A life of exploring; Fields and bathing Ghats Temple bells; moving carts Bridges, bunds and floating mass Vast as she is now, no one to hold Her, in his strength of love She lets loose fury of passion As aggressive as her body flows With lust; exploring, caressing and feeling Edge of crumbling earth In her entwined desires, needs With every erosion, feeding her devouring soul Banks don’t matter, not even the mountain Lost long away in past At last sun sets down on another day Another life ends In vastness of ocean, No knowing; in nothingness Old River merged in the churns Of indifferent space and abysmal depths Unquenched desired and un-quitted love Mountains bleed tears, far away, alone A River song – A farewell _________ Om Namah Shivaya
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Nov 27, 2010
Nov 27, 2010 at 7:51 AM UTC
River Song
Listen, I understand that being happy isn't all that artistic. That loneliness, anger and self hatred are trendier than being content. Unrequited love, jealousy and deep-seeded unquenched desire mathematically recorded in clever metaphor and unexpected similes simply sell better than stanzas sifting and shifting to shape a smile. But writing is a form of expression, I can only mirror myself. If only I could express to you fully how amazing it feels to finally look into that mirror to see me completely with every flaw, every blemish, every pimple, every crazy strand of curly frizzy hair, every tan line, every inch of stretch-marked blotchy skin, every pet peeve, every tear, every inch of stubbornness, every reckless thought, every word I've desperately written, every choice I ever made and truly love every bit of it. I imagine it feels like moving the ocean; I'm a shining beautiful moon.
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May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 11:41 PM UTC
A Happy Poet
Your cruel crimson lips Blood dripping from your finger tips My love a shattered work of art The result of my broken heart Splatters of scarlet hope Mark the sheets where we eloped My love a discarded virginity The result of my mistaken affinity Garnet was the decadent shade Of the dress that veiled my vestal glade My love a slippery hemline The result of my relentless pine The rusty curls on your head Delivered me willingly into the bed My love a handful of tangled hair The result of my wanton affair The flowers he sent were red Reluctantly, I told him you were dead My love a half-hearted lie The result of my wandering eye A ring offered, of ruby and gold Silver is better, but I was sold My love a rehearsed song The result of my doing wrong A burgundy kiss for a charming knight A wedding of chastity white My love a perfected role The result of my injured soul An artificial cherry-flavored *********** Sloppy second copulation My love a feigned first The result of my unquenched thirst The sheet is stained with merlot Out with the trash, then he will never know My love a memorized line The result of my spilled debaucherous wine.
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Sep 4, 2013
Sep 4, 2013 at 2:53 AM UTC
Vermillion
the marble people stare not at you, behind you, not at anyone in particular. hunched, and clutching their glasses, thirst unquenched there aren’t many of them now, originally, there were thought to be thousands, breathing quietly among us, after the man has paid dowry for our daughter, i turn to her and whisper, “i think i’ve lost my spirit, misplaced it, otherwise it flew from me, escaped through my mouth while I was sleeping. it slipped through the barely lit crack of parted lips
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Jul 23, 2013
Jul 23, 2013 at 9:01 PM UTC
( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
One day my words will scream in side my head There will be a thirst unquenched A hand unheld And a million moments lost within the framework we call life How to hold on when everyone about is drowning Hold me up Chuck me a life jacket Where the hell am I Sinking Further Faster Hell this is no fun anymore And as I turn to look into your eyes Your laughing This world is for the rich The mighty sword holds tight Across my chest I breath in air And choak out blood Look down at your hands Blood As red as the lips in which you kiss goodnight In the shade of the shining moon
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Jul 20, 2011
Jul 20, 2011 at 1:48 PM UTC
Thirst
Inhale deeply, and a two, three, four. Exhale, let it fill your soul once more. The ultimate drug of choice, immersed. Intoxication takes over, unquenched thirst. Ceasing to end, and an endless beat. The kind of tune to make you tap your feet. It's the swing in your step, the song in your heart. It's the soulful rhythm in a world torn apart. Embodies everything in one swift ephemeral plea. A beautiful song carried out in perfect harmony. It runs through our veins, innate and entwined. Music is a language for all of mankind.
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Sep 19, 2014
Sep 19, 2014 at 10:36 PM UTC
What Music Means to Me
I whispered this secret to the ocean, but it was rejected on the sand. The pressure has become too thick for me to withstand. The words have over heated, locked in the oven…well overdue. The truth of this all may burn, but this needs to be heard by you. An unquenched thirst in a drought… My world has flipped around, completely inside out. Before I could find the right words, I resorted to the dirt. I buried this secret as the seconds ticked…only way to obliterate how much it hurt. One day the clock stopped ticking, I thought it was well off buried; eminently suppressed. Come to think of it, the ***** little secret was just compressed. Constricting so tight I began digesting my lungs… Nothing bothered me, because everything was numb. So I replaced my eyes with reflectors from the sun, My heart fell in lust with the concept of a dark place to run. Grabbed my lucky charm and a parachute, with the intent to leave one at the ledge. From the top of the cliff I jumped, just as I made my pledge. If I were meant to fight this battle, I’d make it to the ground: free fall. Lucky charm in hand, all dependent on fate’s call. This is a tough war to face alone, but the last thing I want is sympathy. Just asking if you’d have my back…if need be. Pretty well off on my own, I don’t want any kind of hero, But if you can handle it, meet me at ground zero.
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Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 1:17 AM UTC
Meet Me at Ground Zero
Per-fec-tion (noun) / pərˈfekSH(ə)n/ noun Perfection isn’t An Endearing personality That captivates all who see you Paired with a captivating voice Others look up to Waking up every morning With a smile on your face As you walk through life The embodiment of beauty and grace Passing through Day to day trials with ease Treating the storms of life As if they were only a breeze That’s madness Perfection is Coming home to bills Scattered across the kitchen table Wondering if your daughter’s childhood Will ever be stable Having a face marked with A new wrinkle line Paired with your Unquenched need for more wine Not knowing if the tears will stop Or where to run When your best friend’s Time on Earth is done That’s imperfect
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Jul 11, 2018
Jul 11, 2018 at 12:05 AM UTC
Correcting Society's Definition
A bride of the darkness The thirst is forever Hunger always unquenched But she needs to feel Something more than cold The warmth of human touch Alas it can never be so For she will take his life Slowly with a kiss of night
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Jul 24, 2016
Jul 24, 2016 at 3:49 AM UTC
Kiss Of Night
The parched earth echoed the wails for the dead as flames devoured the crowd of corpses mouth agape with unquenched thirst. The sky had mercilessly looked away having spit fire on them down below sparing not one waterhole on its way and the mother if only she could use her tears for the baby to drink but her eyes had turned dry as the earth. Yet dark as the depth of love the King's pond mirrored the princess' face and would still beam the moon in her eyes strangely hiding from the wrath of the drought. One night sleeping on her ivory bed her silken skin cooled with rosewater the princess heard a voice: *When the fury of God blinds him to the pains of men an angel rises to break his heart stakes her life to rend heaven apart so his tears on earth fall as rain.* The windless night was deadly quiet watched by moon in awe wide eyed the trees sparkled in firefly's light when the princess stood by the pond's side. For awhile her eyes roamed around resting on the marble's gleam the sleeping grass her sweet playground a home smelling all earthly dream. She felt like swimming through the air love glowing warm in her peaceful eyes till she reached the end of stairs that bore her frame with deep sighs. The heaven broke down with thunderous rain the seeds sprouted filled field with green upon that land wasn't a drought again never before had such harvest been seen. In the depth of night if you hear a cry from the clouds pearly by dawn's embrace know God's tears will fall from the sky as dewdrops mourning the rain princess.
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Jul 15, 2017
Jul 15, 2017 at 12:22 PM UTC
Rain Princess
The parched earth echoed the wails for the dead as flames devoured the crowd of corpses mouth agape with unquenched thirst. The sky had mercilessly looked away having spit fire on them down below sparing not one waterhole on its way and the mother if only she could use her tears for the baby to drink but her eyes had turned dry as the earth. Yet dark as the depth of love the King's pond mirrored the princess' face and would still beam the moon in her eyes strangely hiding from the wrath of the drought. One night sleeping on her ivory bed her silken skin cooled with rosewater the princess heard a voice: *When the fury of God blinds him to the pains of men an angel rises to break his heart stakes her life to rend heaven apart so his tears on earth fall as rain.* The windless night was deadly quiet watched by moon in awe wide eyed the trees sparkled in firefly's light when the princess stood by the pond's side. For awhile her eyes roamed around resting on the marble's gleam the sleeping grass her sweet playground a home smelling all earthly dream. She felt like swimming through the air love glowing warm in her peaceful eyes till she reached the end of stairs that bore her frame with deep sighs. The heaven broke down with thunderous rain the seeds sprouted filled field with green upon that land wasn't a drought again never before had such harvest been seen. In the depth of night if you hear a cry from the clouds pearly by dawn's embrace know God's tears will fall from the sky as dewdrops mourning the rain princess.
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clutching at pebbles thrown hard into sky as birds bitter yolk of unceasing raindrop ideals personified, then scattered in leaf a coarse blending of the soul and what is scream of forgotten swing alone in sunshine a fear internalized, an unquenched song of watery despair and silence pacing, pacing, toward and away from a melody that is as intangible as balloons whispering to decaying stars fading into nothingness, brief respite, void of sound, emptiness most profoundly pierced with kaleidoscopic shards of senses and memory; with music of blueberries, gleefully dropped into tinny pails overflowing from wistfulness with touch of unblossomed rosebuds admired, unyielding like crabapples moist in calloused palms with smell of tree, unrepentant and unchanging, yet gnarled and longing, indistinct, uncertain with taste of wind, speckled purity of truth elusive, of realization categorized, of wispy but unrelenting passion with the image of a hope etched, recessed, scorned, repressed, grasped, suspended in song the maybe’s and the why’s the can’t’s and the shouldn’t’s the have-to’s and the why’s then slowly fingers defiantly uncurl from stone, in motion unrefined and quietly, fervently; quietly, fervently, I begin to sing... a mottled snapshot of my mind.
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Jun 4, 2010
Jun 4, 2010 at 8:40 PM UTC
a mottled snapshot of my mind
Will I ever be that someone that keeps your sleepless soul awake Will I ever be the longing that leaves your heart sure it will break Will I ever be the vision seen when at night you close your eyes Will I ever be the passion unquenched betrayed in distant sighs Will I ever be the one true love that you regret casting aside Will I ever know the truth of every tear you ever cried Will I ever be the one mistake not repeated do you vow Will I ever hear you tell me how you feel about me right now
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Dec 30, 2010
Dec 30, 2010 at 7:41 PM UTC
Will I ever
Closing my eyes, getting lost in daydreams of what I longed for all my life . Fantasizing about my unquenched thirst just to be loved. Without realizing each time we spoke what was right in front of me. Was it the fear of letting someone enter into my heart,of believing that what I was dreaming was your déjàvu . That warmth that surged into me like electricity, leaving me trembling, was the flame of your Majestical touch . Your voice echoed into where I dared not to let anyone enter. The musical symphony of both are hearts beat and souls songs in a rhythmical eternal dance was created as you whispered those three words , gently brushing your lips upon my skin left my mind hypnotized; seduced. Now that I have tasted your love I sit here dreaming with the hunger to feel you again. I await for my insatiable thirst and desire of you to leave me elated lost in euphoria of your loving touch. Till then my heart returns to our déjàvu . © copy write ~ cherry rose 2015
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Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 2:44 AM UTC
Déjàvu
An unrequited lust A long hard journey That began some eight hundred days ago A burning passion As plans were made Three hundred days Until their final destination A dark haired man A curly haired beauty Finally joining sight As they gaze upon each other A swift run to hug An everlasting embrace Perfection of scent And joyous blending of heartbeats A quiet ride to the house A new home A perfect home One filled with laughter and love A soft embrace A gentle kiss A wave of desire Overcoming the odds A deepening of kiss The toughing of tongues A thirst for love That has gone so far unquenched The shedding of clothes The removal of barriers Skin on skin In rapturous delight A wave of desire Yearning touches A need to be Part of the whole A long hard shaft A warm wet cave Legs intertwined One perfect being The rising of heat The smell of humidity The buoyant cried of joy The energetic moans of ecstasy Panting together Never letting go Finally at a place Where they both belong Waiting their time They made it Overcoming the evil They made it Fighting the odds They made it The long hard walk They made it Together Forever Love conquers all…7411
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Sep 13, 2010
Sep 13, 2010 at 1:07 PM UTC
300
ghosts I have known lecherous dream beings who curtsy with disdain folly for their nourishment a requiem to their *** whispers of pluralism seeking audience second advent astrally disembodied onlooker we shared some wine flinched at entanglement she asked me to stay and I did we bumbled and the night lammed forks in time birth specters spooky children dally unquenched suffering fools with great ease because childhood is make-believe.
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Oct 4, 2012
Oct 4, 2012 at 1:44 AM UTC
Housed
She stays with me in the dark, Until I drift.   She’s there when I land, Tangled in my bed, A solitary shift.   To rise, To shake off the chill, To assert my will, To never give in or give up.   I’ll make one more stand, fighting forth, Moving out into the world, Treading the path again.   Ever still in my mind, Her image firm above my aim, She guides me through my pain.   She speaks to me from within, A whisper of delight; Alight, sweetened words Of unquenched desire.   My pain and my joy, Through fire and rebirth, Beyond far horizons I stray…. Still, I go on.   Still she tempts me on:   Over expanse of waves, Of white peaks, Of green forests, Of hot sand…. Where I see her face and Enter her wilderness.   I go to her, seeking the comfort Of her arms around.   Her breath takes, Her voice quakes, Until vibrations crashing –- My heart splashing – Loudly in my ears…   A place of fire and earth, Between our dark core and Brilliant corona, There scatters arcs of light, Heavenward into air.   The liquid of our selves Flow out into rivers of diamond tears And precious oils. Holding on to her, Speaking her name, Waiting for the force to ebb, To flow… I don’t know what my journey will bring.   I don’t know when my sight will return.   I only know I must face up The troubled terrain, To break my self upon the road.   To know my soul has a safe home, My heart has a singular name, My life has a surging wind, And my love is its strong sail.   And I know the breath of God will blow, And blow on…. Still, she tempts me on.
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Aug 6, 2017
Aug 6, 2017 at 1:02 PM UTC
SHE TEMPTS ME ON
She stays with me in the dark, Until I drift.   She’s there when I land, Tangled in my bed, A solitary shift.   To rise, To shake off the chill, To assert my will, To never give in or give up.   I’ll make one more stand, fighting forth, Moving out into the world, Treading the path again.   Ever still in my mind, Her image firm above my aim, She guides me through my pain.   She speaks to me from within, A whisper of delight; Alight, sweetened words Of unquenched desire.   My pain and my joy, Through fire and rebirth, Beyond far horizons I stray…. Still, I go on.   Still she tempts me on:   Over expanse of waves, Of white peaks, Of green forests, Of hot sand…. Where I see her face and Enter her wilderness.   I go to her, seeking the comfort Of her arms around.   Her breath takes, Her voice quakes, Until vibrations crashing –- My heart splashing – Loudly in my ears…   A place of fire and earth, Between our dark core and Brilliant corona, There scatters arcs of light, Heavenward into air.   The liquid of our selves Flow out into rivers of diamond tears And precious oils. Holding on to her, Speaking her name, Waiting for the force to ebb, To flow… I don’t know what my journey will bring.   I don’t know when my sight will return.   I only know I must face up The troubled terrain, To break my self upon the road.   To know my soul has a safe home, My heart has a singular name, My life has a surging wind, And my love is its strong sail.   And I know the breath of God will blow, And blow on…. Still, she tempts me on.
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Oh the weary wanderings of that silly son Who can’t reconcile his retreat but continues on the run That crafty, that capricious conscience On who’s whimsical watch finds no time for penance A transitory fellow seeking only care-free condition Disposing without a care or notion of contrition His God-given gifts and unmade choices And thus made, though not by ignoring those voices That appeal to his younger more righteous reason Heeding instead the voices that better suit the season Leaving vocation to thirst unquenched and dry Impervious to it all because the end is never nigh All his truths and convictions ephemeral in nature This wandering son this prodigal creature
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Feb 27, 2013
Feb 27, 2013 at 9:23 AM UTC
The prodigal son