He walks the line
A form made of brilliant light
And impeding darkness
Bourne from the misery of one existence
Into another
Doomed to look into the eyes
Of those who wronged him
And whisper forgivenesses.
He is a seeker,
Moving from passage to passage
Searching for that which is lost
And somehow waiting, to bring it home.
He is an advisor,
With quiet words and simple wisdom
Never extending his power
Beyond that of the tiniest brush
Of the lips.
He is a warrior
Strong and stoic in his brilliance
Waiting watching
Keeping safe those who protect him.
He is a fool,
Making his merry path
Learning from the mistakes that
Like so many others, have gone before.
He is a lover,
A slow sensual being,
His heart, given to that which
Would become his existence
If fate would allow.
He is a healer,
Mending the broke heart
With the lightest touch
Of feather wings
And stars within the sky.
He walks among the blades
As if they would not harm him
He takes his rest in pastures
Where evils dare not travel
One set of eyes on the road ahead
Another set on the road behind
He rests, He waits, He heals.
And in the moonlit stormy night
When the minds nativity
In its moment of opulence remembers
He will be there.
Hand out stretched
Waiting, waiting, for the moment
When all will finally be well.
Authors Note: This is a new piece that I hope you enjoy it. I look forward to any comments that viewers may make.
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I like it, especially the optimistic ending. It doesn't describe a peaceful life but it has a peaceful feel.
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