Tens of times doth my battle-call low
With each call came sharp pricks
Tens of times doth my fortitude grow
And beat them back with sticks.
Where shall I reach in the cavern of time
To seek sound judgment back?
Where the sugar to drown the lime
That's eating at my tact?
I see I was mistaken
For methinks I saw a wonderland
But here float shadows misshapen
Lord, help me understand.
Found myself looking through the wall
Strangely, I saw beyond
It works not then as a dead end should
But to my fascination, doth respond.
Squat I among the relics
The cracked pot turned to dust
And now a figurine, moulding
Yea, that be a must.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
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