Tuesday, September 8, 2009

untitled

You must begin again, they said, and still
He wanders, squanders money, has no will:
His heart refusing what his body needs
His head a fantasy of selfless deeds.

I see him sitting there, a weakened man,
A scar upon his chest, yet smoke in hand –
And momentarily I grieve –

But, suddenly, I realize his life,
The sullen eyes, the aged heart, the strife,
Is not so much his burden as his crime
When so much nothing comes from so much wasted time.

6 comments:

Anonymous said...

hmm. Interesting. Good moral.

William Michaelian said...

A harsh judgment, perhaps, but a really fine poem.

“subtome”

Mother of Perseus said...

wow... that really brings tears to my eyes.
Whatever can be done?
Nothing...
and thus my grieving heart.
And your true realization...
*le sigh*

~im just only me~ said...

Thanks :)... my attempt at heroic couplet...

Mother of Perseus said...

i just read this again, and it still has me teary eyed. it breaks my heart every time.

ash1981 said...

Such a powerful message! Easy to relate. Sad & Dayna called it... heartbreaking.