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The Labyrinth (poem)

  • 21-09-2007 1:32am
    #1
    pyntho
    Closed Accounts Posts: 1 ✭


    Hey, this is more verse than poetry I guess, but anyway, I'd appreciate tips if anyone has time. Cheers.


    The Labyrinth

    Here I stand, dressed to play my role,
    Admitting knowledge of naught, but the ways of my soul.
    Before me entangled, lie the ills of the age,
    About me, the ashes, of the books of the sage.
    A man's strength is borrowed, and fleeting his days,
    So I press on, and swiftly, to the depths of the maze.

    By unbid feeling guided, groped forward toward distant light.
    In humility I saw men kneeling, to receive the gift of sight.
    Far yet is an end to suffering, further still the time of the wise,
    But with rising strength do fair men's lives, hold forth against fear and old lies.
    Shades of doubt work to scavenge all lustre, from each vision of earthly right.
    Made carrion each man's most valiant dreams, through restless hours in the night.

    Yet urgent returns, with every break of the day,
    The call to patient toil, the need to find a way.
    If my maze has a centre, it is mine alone to find.
    What use have other men, for the ways of my mind?


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