Wednesday, November 16, 2011

The Sands of Time

The grass withereth,the flower fadeth;

Time goes on and dreams go dead.

Unanswered prayers become forgotten,

Dreams of the young grow cold and rotten.

The mundane weighs heavily on him

Penance for some inadvertent sin?

The stars call out but his sky is black;

This hopeless reality holds him back.

Some dark cloud follows him around.

It sheds no light and it makes no sound;

It rains down heavily and extinguishes

The bright flames of his deepest wishes.

He could have,but didn’t want to run away

Coulda escaped but he’d much rather stay

Than take the easy road ,betray his kind;

Sell out his spirit-his very soul and his mind.

And now he’s tired and the hour is late,

His feelings are rusted,his dreams all dead .

The grass withereth;The flower fadeth.