Heart Cries Foul


I write to console my heart, that cries foul in the face of adversity

That knows that life is limitless and unfair throughout 

Dragging through the rung, the mud, I wish to learn a lesson or two 

But what for, if my final destination is death itself?

What do I strive for but gentle, supportive company 

To hold hands with, while sitting in the waiting room. 

I am waiting for my calling, but I am restless too. 

Words are over my head and my writing is leaving me behind 

Everyone is leaving me behind. 

I may be a bit slow but God knows I try 

I always have, to match the pace 

To turn the corner at the right time. 

And yet I see you merging into horizon, some four and a half hours ahead of my sunset 

And the internal struggle, to keep calm. 

Nothing works. And so I write to calm my heart which cries foul at the adversity of life. 

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