Monday, March 16, 2009

Pathos

A titan, curled in on himself.

A giant, eyes clenched tight.

In the corner of his dripping eye, the stars.

Were he to stand, could he reach them?

Could he have them?

Knees drawn, face to earth, he whimpers.

"A thousand million choices,

all wrong."

And so the lights remain distant as dreams,

the earth no brighter.

(not a very good poem, I don't think, but an illustration nonetheless of somewhere i've been off and on for a while.  feeling much better now, having talked to and prayed with my pastor.  i recommend it.)

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

Your wrong. It's a very good poem.

the Razorclown said...

Thank you, mysterious stranger!