Trudging
Ever
since he took his first breath
He
has been trudging along
On
a path not of his choosing
He
carries the weight of his own life
As
well as the weight of everyone he has known
Somehow
all of their problems became his
Yet
still, he trudges on with little hope of an ending
He
knows that he will end up in Heaven
Or
maybe a Hell of someone else’s creation
But,
after too many years to count
His
world changes
He
sees a crack in the blackness which surrounds him
He
sees the place where someone decided he should be
A
new world of neither a Heaven or a Hell
Simply
a place for him to be him
Without
the weight of the world pressing him down
With
cool, clear water and a sky created by an artist
And,
for the first time since his first breath, he smiles
No comments:
Post a Comment