In his last days, he had become a stranger.
Lines of age had eaten up his once handsome face.
May be it was sorrow.
Each line told a story,
One that would not settle well in the mind.
The sparkle in his bronze eyes was seldom seen,
and seldom never came.
Instead his gaze was smoky,
rather moist like he was on an infinite verge of tears.
He had become fond of looking blankly in a distance,
and did not seem happy with all.
The white smile never came,
even when he looked in the innocent face of his young.
His thick black hair was now a pale thin gray.
The bones seemed to hurt at sight.
His skin was almost transparent.
Clothes no longer fit.
He was like sand in the palm,
easily blown away by the wind.
I have known a man who was not the man I saw that day.
That man is so long gone.
Wherever he went...
it is quiet now.
It crept in to my life
through the window of my mind,
It twisted and turned
through the narrow opening;
I was ambushed by the unlikely enemy,
Or is that what I thought?
Had I been more careful,
I would not be here,
With curious eyes in my direction,
Envy in the depths of their ignorance,
Some wanting to knock it off my face,
Jealousy, the epitome of death.
They no longer consider me as their own.
I have dined with misery,
darkness,
and pain.
But, then I was lost.
It crept in to my life,
It came to stay,
Now I am considered the enemy
Because...
I found happiness,
I found GOD!
I might never get there,
My thoughts are scattered,
My sight is blurred,
I am devoured of all senses,
Am worse than dead.
This body...I should give up;
For a casket this fine,
I deserve not.
The life I lived made a grown man cry,
To be a proud advocate of HADES!
To drink all the tears in the bloody goblets.
I will therefore rest among the thorny shrubs.
If he is as kind as they say,
may be he will lift me to those green pastures.
The Lord is my Shepherd....
that I've learned the hard way.
I am miserable,
I am miserable,
I do not know why,
Perhaps, I dream too much,
Or I dream the wrong things,
May be I do not dream at all.
May be it is not about dreams,
Or the lack of them...
Perhaps, a null and void,
No other can fill...
Except my mind.This is one of the works of my best friend...TRACY KOBUKINDO
In his last days, he had become a stranger.
