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A Vagrant's Song of Trial and Relevation
I followed a path through a pasture of green grass,
One that glistened like emeralds to an untrained eye.
It was a tempting melody played from Death’s harp,
a buoyant tune to masquerade a shrouded lie.
For its deceptive strings sung a siren song,
to sheathe the blade and cover the cracked ground,
that turned to black as I came along.
But then I sailed into a calm sea, wading soft as harmony,
under a tranquil sky and under a deep blue.
This serene lack of turbulent my ideal sanctum,
to evade the world and dream of you.
But soon a lighthouse planted upon sand flickered its light,
and brought my ship upon a jagged shore.
The jovial shine from above shook and faded to night,
losing me in a formless world without the silhouette of the moon.
Aimless and nomadic like a blind man in disarray,
quietly I listened hoping to hear in the wind your tune.
But there was nothing but the rumble of waves ahead,
so angered by this ocean without currents, I declared above,
“This heart alone is a heart better off dead.”
And Death nearly came riding on his blackened steed,
to swiftly bless me as a gift to the celestial province.
But I stood back and felt this heart of greed,
beating like a broken drum and throbbing in my chest.
I sang unto thy life’s orchestra to end this clamor,
and play a honest song to lay this ship to rest.
For no love that only causes a piercing in the soul,
should reign in this heart and cause,
a longing to lose what I’ve learned to control.