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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

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What word would make this dream live?

What utterance of despair could revive?

My world could not buy its form,

My incompleteness

Curse of selfish ignorance.

 

Where could I live, to find hope?

Where could my weary feet carry me?

My path tumbles downward now

Life’s precipice

Carries me from bliss.

 

Who can give me the gift of all?

Who could my shattering reform?

My life flows on in turbulence

A river so red

Echo of my lost heartbeat.

 

When did my life depart the world?

When did my heavens turn so cold?

My clouds cannot hide the dark

Starless void

The mirror of my broken soul.

 

How can I continue in this place?

How can sorrow be displaced?

My tears bleed it away

Endless flood

Deepest pool

In my emptiness drained away.

 

-Norman

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