Monday, September 26, 2005

await

How many verbal letters have I sent upon angels’ wings?
seemingly too many,
yet never quite enough

Tongue twisted writ, such script sublime
despair unanswered,
daunting tick of time

Relenting now, to mountain-less faith
prayers thud instead of soar

Again I find myself tested and weary,
as so many times before

Somehow this time seems different
the sameness of it all,
has caused such a vast difference

I try and stand upon the mountain peak
all I do is gasp for breath
such dizziness encouraging the plummet

My words, they flutter
one day again they may soar

I stand upon the precipice, my hand outstretched

What now?



- J.G.Smith (09/26/05)

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