Thursday, November 1, 2012


Herculean strength, the outer persona,
Barren wasteland, hidden beneath,
Micheal's light, shining freely,
Or Nebuchadnezzar's pit, in sanity's sheath?

Mist around, clouded way,
A dollop of gold for the last ride,
Enough it seems, flimsy delights,
Hell awaits, arms open wide.

The whirlpool beckons, the cracken cackles,
Yet the angel calls, opening the passage free,
To the pearly gates but slippery is the way,
Angel herself's lost or seemingly be.

What shall be lost and what found,
Remains shrouded in the shackles of time,
Hope lingers, will the angel too,
Charred is the end or eden sublime?


I wish I knew :)


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