A wounded lamb I saw in my dream,
with bleeding hoofs, it limped towards the stream.
The leer of savage wolves it allured.
They pounced, slashed, and had its kill ensured.
Woke me from my sleep breathlessly,
'It ain't no dream’, said my mind vaguely.
The lamb was me and the pasture, life,
a bruised soul, circumscribed by extreme strife.
Flaws and faults were all I had,
I endeavored to have them unclad.
I tried so hard and got so far,
but perfection and success still seems afar.
Perfection's my aim; evolution, the path.
Never-ending aspersion building my wrath.
Disbelief chokes my soul as the dark ascends,
The hooded assailants turn out to be my friends.
Amidst crowds, yet I walk the backstreet.
Cared no one to open my heart and feel its beat.
A chance to prove my worth is all I need,
'With you ,till the end ',will then be my creed.
Hope's fading; I see the gallows,
But there's still time to end my woes,
Enough of shields, now it’s time for swords,
to fight back and be amongst the lords.
Stared I, at the crucifix across the room,
at Christ, the Lamb of God, the slayer of doom.
My worries shrink, hope filling my every breathe,
for there is a resurrection for every death.
- August 4, 2010
No comments:
Post a Comment