It's cornerstones were laid,
With peerful eyes,
It's ramparts spelled,
My coming demise.


The Last Rock

There is a rock,
That sets atop my table,
A remnant of a rubbled wall,
Destroyed by enlightenment's hammer.

Built high on a hill,
It stood.
Incarcerating my soul.

It's cornerstones were laid,
With peerful eyes,
It's ramparts spelled,
My coming demise.

Addictions tools,
From an evil craftsman hands,
Used to set me asunder.

It came to pass,
That indeed and alas,

A light was pinned on me,
An angel in white adorned,

Had been sent to set me free.

So I keep this last rock,
A reminder,
Of what might have been,

That this wall of evil addiction,
Almost did me in.
________________________________________




Poetry by W. Burkholder
Read 612 times
Written on 2007-03-05 at 16:31

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