Is there an image in your imagery,
a still behind the flask
A spell within the potion,
an answer, question asked
A beginning in your ending line,
a peace that’s worth the bout
A phrase that makes all history shake,
—a whisper then to shout
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)
Life Below
Not free, not wise, not kind, not loved,
and tethered to the past
Unwilling to admit the truth,
he met his match at last
His Muse had warned time and again,
a reckoning was near
His eyes to close, his voice to mute,
beyond his greatest fear
Unsung, unwanted, lost, alone,
his nights became his days
His introduction to regret,
the price all sinners pay
If just one chance to then go back,
and take that other road
The dark would pass, the light return,
and end his life below
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)
Only For Itself
There are many voices,
—but the truth speaks only for itself
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)