|
By bp Date: 2003 Mar 22 Comment on this Work [[2003.03.22.07.55.13696]] |
|
....his feet implanted steadfast in the pessimism of his soul. His wandering is for naught lest he fall short his final goal. Arms made once for reaching hang lifeless at his side, hands once firm and strong now weak through injured pride. Eyes which scan horizons for good which lay ahead, now scan the barron waste of life; so fruitless and so dead. A heart once big enough to house the world so innocent from birth. Let not this heart partake in now love's merriment and mirth. His mind, his final touch w/ life the leader of his soul. Now weak or dead through inner strife can't reach a single goal. Is there a God so cruel to make this jest of life? Man is God's finest tool, if this is so then why? |