It is with sadness in which I view the coming to the ends
whereas the masses of mourners have gathered unto themselves.
Filled with their false hopes and bitters dream
from which they shall always contend.
The time is at hand and it cares not for those who in hope had dwelled.
for it is as the blowing sand, and the drifting, crying wind,
where hope falters in its own shadow,
and man must come to his own end.
It is of this sight, which greatly saddens my heart,
As I see the people come, and I see the people go,
Leaving…departing…embarking on a new journeys woe,
Traversing it all, with sorrowful hope failing,
empty of life, replete with visible souls wailings.
Sad, Oh so sad…am I….
as I reach out with my grasping hand,
Chancing against chance in a stealing sky
hoping only to touch the fleeting soul of man.
Per chance I tried…
J. Allen Wilson © 2005