Friday, December 2, 2016


A circuitous journey is the sum of our days—

Between heaven and hell, we endeavor towards grace.

Dominion surrendered; must life be defined

By insignificant sanity or madness sublime?


Is heaven a few drops of what we most wish,

Delightfully licked from the holy chalice?

Hell is the interim, mournfully sown,

Like Anna on the tracks and Dulcinea unknown.


When our corporal concerns are extinguished by death,

Do our energies on earth amount to chaff?

Slammed between the polar extremes we’ve been given,

We accept that pain is so much of living.


Courageous men have faced cowardice;

Success without failure, cannot exist.

Love must be known for hate to breed;

Ecstasy mingles with agony.


Truth balances upon the lies that we wield.

In the darkest of hours, bright hope is revealed.

As the sun sets ablaze the epic we’ve lived,

The end of pain is a sanctified gift.