The quest for immortality
Is but one in futility
Wherefore race where there is no prize
'Cept in the eye of one who's deceived?
Culture, aren't Thou fickle?
One man's barbarism is by
Another's luxury
T'all depends on who wears Your Ring
Resistance, noble You may be
Alas, just as futile
As the tree that bendeth not
Against the King of waves
Lady DoleDust gathers on papers scattered on the floor
Sunbeams filter through the window pane
Bread and water consumed as the staple meal
Tabloid crumpled from excessive browsing
School bags missing from the boys' room
Cups unwashed, in the kitchen sink
Radio broken, atop the microwave
Silence suffocates the living room
Street devoid of cars and pedestrians
Leaves rustling in the gusty breeze
Jacket round body; cold comfort
Footsteps, lonely on the pavement
Eyes hungry; seeking sustenence
Face dishevelled; persisting in worry
Hands weary; wringing tabloid
Queue sprawling; unending dole backlog
Like a stream that ebbs and flows
Man's spirit waxes and wanes
Without that which is holy and eternal
Mortals cannot help but perish
Discernment, that much sought-after gift
Clarity, the one for whom men stumble in the
Fog and mist of Desire and Pain,
Rest, for the search is over
Decades of seeking, blinded by Frustration's tears
Years of looking, stung by Suffering's vines
Months of foraging, scourged by Temptation's thorns
A second of finding, will I allow Comfort in?
Wisdom, the folly of men!
Knowledge, the stone upon which they fall!
Pride, the sin that convicts millions!
Grace, the eternal gift sufficient for all
