The taste of fatigue and hardly moving a muscle,
A standing man compelled to his side as his heart and mind wrestle
One another re the past and the present and the hollowness of his vessel,
Wondering whether the emptiness is a necessary feature
To purify and remind us forgetful, temporary creatures
Of the purpose and permanence of that which lies with the Creator,
Like a shell reminds its listeners of the sea and the sea shore,
Or perhaps symbolic of our empty hands at arrival and departure,
An emptiness insatiable except by His love and a desire to reach her,
But indeed He made us social creatures,
So maybe it's just me and maybe I just miss her.
So I'm thankful for better times despite not showing thanks then,
And I'm thankful for now to make up for thanks in lieu,
Reminding myself that I'm just in transit passing through,
And that this transit lounge is another man's life, another man's hell hole,
And while I move on into the light, for him there's just tunnel and darkness and his hollow passage,
So death to sadness, death to darkness and death to death,
But until that final breath,
And until that final hollowness,
We wallow not in that which wishes to consume us
But trail hopefully in the darkness
With firm conviction that there's a light.
