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Tuesday, May 27, 2008

Crisis

I search for clues among the debris
of the scattered remnants of a crisis.
A stitch with which this heart to mend,
a light into raptures my soul to send.

Along the shores of a scattered mind,
and a heart now a desert wasteland,
a shining pearl I shall surely find,
among the forlorn driftwood on the sand.

The pain I hope has broken the shell
of ignorance, and will bring a swell,
a tide of wisdom so painfully won,
a desire to carefully darkness shun.

Will the light lift the veil and reveal
my soul, will it darkness' layers peel?
A dream, a passing dream it is,
this and every other crisis.