Hid The Dead

Out there in the great unknown,

Beyond where the bluebirds have flown.

Where babies will not become grown.

Where the wicked seeds are sown.

When always hidden is what we see,

Because the reality can not be.

The worried brow of discovery,

Prevents the rebellious from recovery.

When truth has the sustenance of bread.

The innocent must not be fed.

On the darkness light will not be shed,

And the knowing souls have hid the dead.

Amongst the dreams that are broken,

There may be a token,

Of what were once the bridges that lead to and from,

Between faltered experience and what may come.

Leaves open the question of what can be done.

Resisting the need to break with the status quo,

Comfort is the result of going with the flow.

Silenced conscious dares not to ask,

What is necessary to bring mercy back?

On the darkness light will not be shed,

And the knowing souls have hid the dead.

Possibilities in the shadow of could be,

Are cast aside with the doubt of maybe.

Determination is more blight than blessing,

Whn free will is stripped of dressing.

The tortured rmnants of the pure,

Will not divulge that sacrifice brings no cure.

The lambs have all been cut and bled.

On the darkness will not be shed,

And the knowing souls have hid the dead.

Marcus T. Tolbert

This work is protected by copyright.  Reproduction by any means or transmittal by wire or fax is strictly prohibited without the expressed written permission  by author.. All quoted must be attributed to and credited to Marcus T. Tolbert with direction for locating it's origins.

This poem is an excerpt from the book  Soul of the Spoken Word, Written by Marcus T. Tolbert  ISBN 9781608607464.  Published by Eloquent Books.