The Past Is But The Past.

I see a man that stands before me
Not the man I saw before
No longer lifes long marionette
Or a place without a door
I see a place, that has no ending
Yet has a niche for me
A place that I have longed for
A place of santuary
My heart at last has found a home
To put the past at rest
In the arms of one whose sweet love
Puts my demons now at rest
So many years I've wandered
In a barren arid land
Seeing loved ones that surround me
Yet still I'm treading sand
She is the vision that I sought so long
And now she's here at last
She holds my heart and soul as one
The past is but the past.



Poetry by penfold18
Read 600 times
Written on 2007-03-04 at 13:13

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Individuality
lifes long marionette - life's long marionette
santuary - sanctuary perhaps?

a good poem, aye the past is but the past though it still plays an important part in the present, we all have to come to terms with what has gone before in our lives.
2007-03-04