By Harley


We search out lifešs path -

Unseen and unknown.

Our reason for being.

Our dreams - our hopes.

But chaos invades without discretion

Humanities true dissension.

Spirits caged and cursed

Living though bruised and dispersed.

Grandfather, I wander in no direction

Stuck in the mire of modern times -

Waiting breathless for divine intervention

Facing a darkness beyond time.

My spirit pounds like the wings of a captive bird

Struggling to fly free.

Beating against lifešs bars.

Seeking a path in which to be.

I can not see the sun.

I long for the sunšs gentle caress.

The moon does not grace me.

Nor does the thunder set me free.

I will die here.

I will cease to be.

Mankindšs subterfuge

Will have taken me

Far from the mother

Far from the truth

Far from the essence

of balance and good.

Š (JCE) 2/15/00

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