Iliterate Poet

A dumping ground for my works in progress.

12 Sept 2010

Mercy

As time goes by, my soul doesn’t sigh
The round of the game, that game being life,
Life of the animal and life of the shepherd
Faith that the shepherds strength,
Is measured in length, of mercy for all.
All encompassing, even a star
All that create are within, inexplicably linked
Creating the whole.
Inescapable, wondrous or thunderous,
should you waver.
So do unto yourself a favour
The taste, the flavour of life’s labour
No bitter taste can be
Bitter couldn’t stand the bitterness, of oneself
From bitterness you are free.
But I think the next round is on you
I’ll have a beer, thanks dear.

0 comments:

Post a Comment