Weary and forever shattered is this failing heart of mine,
for I am encumbered by and filled with lucid visions of dying.
Alone and cold am I, in this world which has become my life.
And I am a prisoner of my own accord, behind invisible walls of strife,
For I remain shackled by haunting visions that my cripple my weary mind,
And I as miseries guest, succumb to the omens of a forever silent time.
For the days are no more, and the bells toll from an ever nearing shore,
and I hear the knocking of visitors with an unnatural calling, knocking they are…knocking… and knocking……. at my door.
J. Allen Wilson © 2004