Time's Mend

What thoughts have I,
in mind against its grain;
aware, but in shallowness dressed,
humanity’s drain, drowns my spirit’s health;
beside myself, of doubt filled dreams,
my cries, my fears, my failures scream;
from where I come, to there I roam,
this room, now an empty, hollow tomb;
my soul possess, my heart so stressed,
beneath the surface, my tears regret;
what life I’ve passed, what time I’ve left,
to prove my best, my worth, my test;
these means at hand, these doubts to mend,
all time at once, an enemy and my friend;
grief, beyond this hapless fate forlorn again,
left to weep, to tremble, sigh, and bend;
I lift my voice, my essence pleads time’s mend.
Michael Darrell Walker
Sunday Sept. 01, 2013


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