A Poets Journal: The Eclipse

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Live to chance for what may not to some, or even to any, exist,
For if it is so then few are born to search for his own eclipse.
If this is not, then what for are the senses poor,
And why only those who live already dead can ignore what is already torn.
Is it together that the pieces begin to connect with hope of reform,
A shape conjured for unison instead of neglect, a chance to mend what I forlorn.
I do believe that to be but a test for those to stray from what is best.
But what is best if our sense and neglect are true to be no more than a test?
That my friend is left to chance, more than faith, and not to be confused for the same.
For I hope that there is something more than what my souls prison loves and adores.

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2 Comments
duddle146duddle146over 17 years ago
Cloudy.

This rendering seems to be involved in a futile soul searching exercise. Being so involved can as such be a prison.

LeBrozLeBrozover 17 years ago
~~

Another piece sounding like Yoda had a hand in it,

Rather twisted and convoluted.

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