Imaginations Fickle Road

I walk upon a parched way of second hand dreams.

I am consumed by its nothingness

as I fall in humility before the King of Kings.

I am asked to give account of a life so blessed.

I feign nobility, yet falter in obscurities duress.

My mind is now accosted by the steel bands of quintessential regret

And I quaver into the forced silence of my subsequent death.

For I stand now before all that ever was.

I appeal for quiet mercy for mere mercies sake,

Yet, I crumble into dust beneath damning words, void of singular grace.

 I have lost it all in this vast desert without a name

for I join now my dreams upon this barren unforgiving plain.

Yea, for what I was before I was, I have become again…

as my remnants are swept away by the cleansing wind.

J. Allen Wilson © 2005