Here are the only binding promises of life;
not for seasons be adjusted.
For time itself to speed or slow
the frenetic pace of happenings
that trickle down to boredom.
Something desired that you could not say out loud,
mighty rivers turned to run the other way,
wrong way rivers too easily forded.
Miles of salvation bartered
for inches of cold revenge.
True forgiveness, rare as valid excuses for betrayal,
only paper mâché morals.
Death, unaffected by imagined longevity
some far away collapse of dignity,
charisma perhaps, where none was before,
ability not granted naturally, extracted.
At a shadowy intersection, some questionable luck,
an all or nothing deal is struck.
All is merely quickly satisfying days,
when Lucifer borrows he always pays,
nothing is collateral.
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Author:
Dan Williams (
Offline) - Published: January 15th, 2025 02:13
- Comment from author about the poem: Warm up for Hell.
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 16
Offline)
Comments2
Thought provoking. "only paper mâché morals." a great line. A most interesting poem Dan.
"Paper mâché morals" indeed. Very thought-provoking and powerful Dan. I can feel the 🔥 emanating from this one. Thank you for sharing, my friend! ❤️🙏
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