Oh there be times found at hand,

That feels the future bleak and bland,

Where an error simply overlooked,

Does seem to drop goose in pot to cook.

And the essence of a fond farewell,

Does echo loud upon the bell,

As the cards played from the current hand,

Are laid before' as you understand,

That you have been mistaken tell.

For philosophers have urged to know thyself,

And learn play the cards that have been dealt,

But a slight trick in common sense,

Is to learn the art of self defense,

As caution may carry a heavy weight,

When misproportionally used to relate,

Or unrelate due to mental health,

That lacks through thoughts of unseen stealth,

And mulls over and through a fog so great.

Yes I be one of uncertain days of yore,

When my only wish that I should go before,

Another day begins and I tumult about,

In the rough and tumble of my mental bouts,

And should I wish this on any other,

I would not deserve a mother,

Nor life of any sort rich or poor,

But like a prison without a door,

Could see no release to my stress and bother.

But then one day in my prison of mind,

A friend he came to let light shine,

Upon my sordid state of torment,

By quoting from the New Testament,

In words that did light up my soul,

And once again I found me whole,

As he glowed as if the son of mankind,

Had engulfed him to remove my blind,

And he be of the highest heaven bold.

So now I am able to want my life,

To continue with or without strife,

Preferably without but at times 'can't be helped,

That I do return to my less than mental wealth,

But even in my dark and sombering times,

Having been touched by spirit divine,

Can strive and stretch to catch the like,

Of the God in man that in all can arrive,

To place the whole back into line.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This poem is in thanks to a beautiful man who is now dwelling with the Great Spirit.

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poetvg's picture

i agree
with you
on this poem :*)