2026 Contributor
Poetry
Sundered Innocence, Sundered Hope
Revisiting something I wrote 11 years ago.
Such is life as is the fact in the unknown
The unknown is the dusty veil upon uncertainty,
The weathered crown that sits upon the skull of hope.
Be it most becomes a fool’s false hope,
in this hope embroidered with ill intent.
It swallows whole a pure fool.
Such is life as the fact in illusions beset.
The illusions as shrouds that blind innocence,
the brown bestowed upon a credulous heart.
Be it to bind the blinded innocent,
As most illusion is cast with ill intent.
It swallows whole the best of souls.
Such is life as the fact of brooding pain,
Visceral pain become a light’s glimmer in desolation,
That crown that festers atop shattered hope.
Malady embroidered in the veils of illusion,
Be it that pain holds hands with knowledge.
As pain is inflicted within and without intent,
It breaks the bonds, it teaches a credulous heart.
Such is life being driven in as a double-edged dagger.
06/30/2010
edited 07/01/2021
edited 12/08/2025