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THE PATHWAY
Where is the light ?
It never seems like we are close to that sight ,
When our hope to living is being threatened
Poised on the great Rope of life and peroration
The train of survival ,
sustained great feets above the ground,
Seated on the knife-point of regress to the overture of life,
The beginning.
Our days have become night ,
Our might has lost the Fight
Our space has become viselike
The tears erupting from our own fears,
have become the fate of a fiercely lived life,
without the incursion of that,
which is the beginning.
How then shall our Hope live ?
Whilst we lose it,
in a life found not to be ours ,
Foot soldiers are marching on the rocky hills of survival, betrayal and Hatred
Golden bullets filled with Ore ,
Vehemently diving into the souls of the unfortunate ,
How much more suffering,
shall the Nature of man see .
Our hopes have been slayed ,
And the remains decay,
The great colorful paintings have gone gray,
For the end of that which is present
Is nigh
© Eric James
It never seems like we are close to that sight ,
When our hope to living is being threatened
Poised on the great Rope of life and peroration
The train of survival ,
sustained great feets above the ground,
Seated on the knife-point of regress to the overture of life,
The beginning.
Our days have become night ,
Our might has lost the Fight
Our space has become viselike
The tears erupting from our own fears,
have become the fate of a fiercely lived life,
without the incursion of that,
which is the beginning.
How then shall our Hope live ?
Whilst we lose it,
in a life found not to be ours ,
Foot soldiers are marching on the rocky hills of survival, betrayal and Hatred
Golden bullets filled with Ore ,
Vehemently diving into the souls of the unfortunate ,
How much more suffering,
shall the Nature of man see .
Our hopes have been slayed ,
And the remains decay,
The great colorful paintings have gone gray,
For the end of that which is present
Is nigh
© Eric James
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