Time’s half-glimpsed Child,
Old man’s fun;
Whose changeling are you?
There must be someone.

What voice, now indistinct
Fell on your ear?
What was its cruel message?
I hark-en to hear.

What hopes do you harbour?
What do you know?
From where do you come, and
Where could you go?

Could this be brittle hard pride
I seem to discern,
In the rooms of your stare?
I’m anxious to learn.

What loins could have sired you?
What fool’s pedigree,
Mixed with a sweet lady’s
And brought you to be?

Sterile orphan, or heir..he
Answered my plea.
I’m sorrow’s sole infant,
Now never to be….

I’m day’s last dying thought,
That started to creep
Into your fleeing mind;
As you fell asleep.

I’m doubt’s dark slinking dog,
That follows your soul.
I’m Truth’s hand mirror,
As men grow old.

I’m the price of Arrogance,
Purchased with Sin.
The knowing, dry shell of
Your might have been.

Journal Comments

  • BarbBarcikKeith
  • Thomas Akers
  • deliriousgirl