May 26, 2007 23:46
I was told ago by a man of old
Of a land full of gifts and treats untold
But they weren't built from silver or gold
But they weren't built from things bought or sold
And so I packed my possesions tight
And down the road with feet in flight
I travelled long through day and night
Through sad and glad and health and blight
And as I slept under stars of ice
I drempt of my poor children thrice
Once as young, Once as true
Once as died and finally through
And at the end of the road, I saw the man
With his heart in his hand and his head full of sand
And at the end he breathed and spoke with fear
And whispered into my quaking ear
That truth cannot penetrate one's head
Until one is truly done and dead
They burnt me at dawn, I drifted away, wise but unaware
(I wrote this as a break, otherwise I've been writing my take-home exam)
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