Lost, a poem

To pacify dunes of discomfort, dry heaving rot and woe,

washed, only abundance by the ocean, corroded eyes blinded.

Cancers held, opposition dealt, and scourge throughout passing,

resenting past, the steady musing touch that eternally has me.

 

Keeper sacred of what has passed, beheld of a beautiful moment.

Lover of all, lust of future trials, heralding of the child’s laughter,

readily seen, few found, masses are not wealthy, but many sought after.

Passing kind, looking past a within, abundance of tears held in lament.

 

Segments soft and lively, strung taught the feeling when those segments go unheld,

Inching soft, the segments of the caterpillar, til’ burrowed inside of the ground.

Bliss held, cradled future lies within, and aside its home is woven judgement, guilt dealt.

A beautiful shouts, piercing silence all around, screams are pierced by a cooing sound.

 

That which had once felt lost, fears the longing no longer,

for life remains beautiful for the feelings past a longing.

Longings had passed, beauties swept unconscious, unaware of woes around.

Too fast for penance, remarks from beauty last though foes surrounding.

 

Pain endured, no scales could balance such absolution,

the once lost holds sharp eyes and it beauty under protection.

Every trickle of crimson, a small penance paid, tell the lost to go forth and say,

“For the man protecting his life from the enemy outside, give me strength today.”

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