I stand here bare footed dancing in the dust of sorrow
What's before me is beyond the thought of reason
Twenty-four past, another Twenty-four makes way
Sun baked and a thirst rally, for the dust grows high
Shadows etched in the deepest core of the mind
Tearjerking childhood days till the present time
Inheritance of the past, only traces of the dust
Dancing wildly in memory that never seem to last
The Gatherers have arrived with instruments of made be
Enchantment once written upon sand with stories aged
I fear dry words won't be heard down this chain multiplied
My feet are hot and the sun filters the dust of sorrow
Hear ye! with outstretched arms raised upon the sky
Surrendering completely, wailing, screaming out loud
The woes of long ago dancing to the beating of the drums
Yesteryear's sorrows and of tomorrows lifted up to God.
On behalf of Poetry Poem, myself being an active member, and all the staffs and poets here, I share good standings at the following survey sites: (Click the icons below)
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