Thursday, December 4, 2014

Mirages from the Desert

The dark doth not dispel,

For your words can not compel.

Each precious morsel you leave behind,

Keeps my soul trapped and in a bind.

Even the crumbs from the table,

Forever played words from a fable.

Shall this fade as seasons pass?

Shall my heart be free at last?

What is real and what is fake?

What mirages do my maker make?

1 comment:

  1. "Should I fear the dark?", asked Lucy of the Lion

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