…walking down this deserted street

on rock-hewn shards tearing into blistered feet

the journey may be arduous and so very long

and the will may falter, the resolve may at times feel less strong

but the journey proceeds ever on

waging battle after minor battle, while the war of attrition rages on, never to be won

the destination, the culmination of the tortured soul’s journey may never be attained

yet the spirit is infused with the strength, that from bitter lessons have been gained

thus the walk continues, the ceaseless trudging through this at times meaningless life

in joy, in misery, in the short moments of abundant plenty, and in the cold times of wretched strife

so it may come to pass on some distant, faraway day

when under the ground, in ashes we may lay

what then is the consolation of things accrued and possessions kept

when into this earth we shall return, to sleep like we have never slept

so picking up the pieces from here and there

the good, the bad, each one to share

and then leaving this realm to finally depart

back to the place where the whole saga may once again start

thinking not of morbid thoughts, no, none of this is that way meant

merely grasping the moments left, and in grasping them, to pause and think on how wisely they may be spent

for once the end knocks as it shall inevitably upon the door

and once the theatre of life’s curtain drops to the stage floor

the grand truth may be something beyond what these eyes can see
yet the small truths may be the release that eventually set the caged soul free…