Sunday, October 4, 2020

The Pact

I would not be long for this dreary world

In the wind like leaves I have swung and whirled

My memories, the fog of horrible nightmare

Or nostalgic dreams whisper on the crisp air

A rising storm that never abated

Where names of gods are consecrated

A niche in a temple my grave will be

When I die, that is not the fate I foresee

Celestial pyre, burn my remains where I lay

Blaze like a meteor that guides the way

My long days of toil have finally ceased

My long-imprisoned soul is at last released

I stand among the noblest of men

Those who prophesied with wits and a pen

I have made my choice, time to act

Honor my vow and self-proclaimed pact

To the skies where mortals and Angels trod

Fulfill my pledge and unite with god

Maxwell O’Reilly

No comments:

Post a Comment