( This was something I just wrote while waiting on traffic the other day.)
Hanging upon the thread of eternity
avoiding the words flung like arrows
Marching through the mire of fear
where understanding is unknown.
Catching a glimpse of tomorrow
like butterflies upon the meadow of age
Where youth is swallowed like a drink o water
by the thirst gained in the desert of civilization.
Watching the ruin of youth and elder alike
recycling upon the refuse called wealth
Gaining the gold mountain, yet losing all
in the cold arms of the stature of self.
Walking upon the razor towards the bed of time
where hands always search for the security of mind
Balancing upon tomorrow on a mote of dust
selecting greed's path instead of the faith we lust
Yet, a tear within rainstorms is noticed not
as the flood of humanity turns all things to dust
Yet a light it shines on the stars ahead
of promises of tomorrow before we are dead.
A prayer or a deed
in a ways not yet seen
That will brings us light
in the final days of being
For then the road
of which we have walked
Becomes the path
for which all has been sought.
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