a first for me.. so its not that good... but it works... (I hope)
A moment,
A touch on the hand,
A single look from that mysterious stranger with the enchanting eyes from across the room,
A passing in the corridor of someone that could be " the one",
fleeting moments of time, are just like sand...
Here today, gone tomorrow,
and through that all,
knowing that all we live in sorrow.
We are a people of death,
and not the light of life in which we profess,
We kill, rape, maime and pillage for the name of what we deem as "right"
Even Free Love does not come free,
admit it, it comes with a price of uncureable disease.
Broken hearts, never mend, only cause disability.
A brief interlude is all we have,
A moment lost,
A touch on the hand forgotten amongst the pain brought on by one's fellow man,
A single dark look from that once familiar stranger with the daggers in thier eyes from across a crowded room,
A passing in the corridor of that someone who was " the one" for but a moment,
fleeting moments of time, collective moments of pain, are just like sand...
Shifting and fleeing , Shifting and Fleeing,
Time, the true Master of each of us all....
Poetry by An Apathetic Zealot
Read 544 times
Written on 2006-12-19 at 20:42
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Time
A brief interlude is all we have,A moment,
A touch on the hand,
A single look from that mysterious stranger with the enchanting eyes from across the room,
A passing in the corridor of someone that could be " the one",
fleeting moments of time, are just like sand...
Here today, gone tomorrow,
and through that all,
knowing that all we live in sorrow.
We are a people of death,
and not the light of life in which we profess,
We kill, rape, maime and pillage for the name of what we deem as "right"
Even Free Love does not come free,
admit it, it comes with a price of uncureable disease.
Broken hearts, never mend, only cause disability.
A brief interlude is all we have,
A moment lost,
A touch on the hand forgotten amongst the pain brought on by one's fellow man,
A single dark look from that once familiar stranger with the daggers in thier eyes from across a crowded room,
A passing in the corridor of that someone who was " the one" for but a moment,
fleeting moments of time, collective moments of pain, are just like sand...
Shifting and fleeing , Shifting and Fleeing,
Time, the true Master of each of us all....
Poetry by An Apathetic Zealot
Read 544 times
Written on 2006-12-19 at 20:42
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
