Strength, is key in the knowledge
of what was once done;
it is a factor,
to the breaking apart
of anyone’s stones;
if your hurt is a fear, worse
than a sun shattering tome;
then your end of life
is perfervid, as you burn, so alone.
Strong as any stone is,
it will eventually
turn to dust;
as do most promising relationships,
upon which we trust;
in life, we sacrifice living’s flesh,
all caused to combust;
and drown in the pools of tears,
each sheds in disgust.
Expressing in words,
all that is lost
in one’s love for all life;
impedes trust between souls
sparring in a sprightliness,
and in ruin,
of one, for life’s strengths
passed to others;
rests no comfort in the forsaking,
of a taken in love oath.
On one night,
whose edge is as sharp
as a stropped razor;
words one has written heatedly
bring tension to blister;
away flee the memories
of love living, in truth together;
as nigh is the end,
of this curst bond, whet by disaster.
As you hold back the night,
one that should not appear;
and dress yourself down slowly,
soul left only too bare;
your heart leaps from its living,
as this eve’s prophecy is clear;
you are alive,
no life, or night’s edge
will you forevermore fear.
Michael Darrell Walker
Copyright ©2008 Michael Darrell Walker