Careless tumbles the barrel of time,
Foolish have been my decisions.
Broken, rusts the armour of mine,
Painful, the thrust of misericord,
Piercing through my protective barriers.
Sometimes, it is over, good has met its end.
You try to fight on, ghostly, despite a mortal wound.
And as I stand upon the field,
Quite accounted for.
It is time I admit it is over. To safety, I hope to flee.
My life, my hope, my faith in tact,
But my heart shattered like brittle stone.
And yet, the night breeze, I sensed, it became a hurricane in the morning, my dream, in it as though truth itself, is to know that night breeze, as though in romance- to romance the mystery of the hidden truth. For I love the night breeze, which so few yet can sense.
Sunday, January 28, 2018
Careless tumbles the barrel of time
Posted by Marc Evan Aupiais at 4:08 PM
Dad; Husband; Christian (Catholic); Irish. — News; Business; History; Civilizations; The Western World; Speech; Culture; Law. (Pronounced: Aw-Pea-Air.)
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