The darkest night of the human spirit happens when
It has expended the last of its volume on that which can never be filled again
The stilts voice has no vocal aroma
The orchids full bloom tastes of bitterness
When the tears of humanity have cried in vain for the silencing of sufferings
What vanity has overcome and usurped the human condition to bequeath the eternal to hands that wither away and callous with the coming of age
The Lilly wilts and still it is more beautiful than all the greatest triumphs of a man who knows no one loves him
For yet even that Lilly is loved
As it sits taken by peaceful boyouncy
The waters that keep the incorporeal heart of man afloat are tumultuous at best
And how should I in earthly weakness call out for that storm to stop
I am no balm in Gilead
I am no carpenter
I am completely reliant on what
Happened over 2000 years ago
And till that day I cry out
Maranatha
YOU ARE READING
The Penultimate Pleasures
Thơ caA collection of poems meant to embody the ongoing struggle of souls seeking shelter in modernity. (Let me know what you think:)
