The Grim Road
I dreamt last night a somber dream,
Of weary legs on golden shores,
Where the doors of hallowed grace, were opened wide to let them in.
And where the Shepherd calls His sheep,
Eternally within the fold,
Where Love shall keep them all from harm, now safely in the by and by.
Their mortal journey at an end,
With all its pain and suffering,
Now hurled as far as East from West, and cast adrift upon the sea.
At last their weary heads shall rest,
Their flagging spirits gain repose,
As silently they slip from grasp of mortal man's beleaguered plight.
I dreamt that somewhere deep within,
The deepest dark that steeps man's soul,
That fathomless and black abyss, wherein the heart perverts and twists.
I dreamt of all that in this world,
Casts darkened pall upon the road,
Where heavy laden farers pass without relief from trudgery.
From high above the bloodied steppe,
The gods have shed a tear for man,
That softly falls to parched lips, whose heavy souls lie on the ground.
Whose grizzled hearts in rote repine,
Do mourn the Reaper's passing hand,
That steels away with steely scythe, that breath which livens cherished friends.
From daylight now we turn to dusk,
The flame that burned has now grown dim,
As darkened melodies of night, besiege the heart before we dream.
And usher in that timeless grief,
Whose icy winds benumb the mind,
And paralyzed awakenings beset each vain and futile step.
And though our hearts be cleft in twain,
Nay, quartered by the bitter winds,
Our bodies, battered by the storms that soon engulf these phantom shells,
Lie softly on that inner core,
That strengthens mind and heart anew,
For when the moon has faded out and rolling clouds are cast aside,
Resplendent in the light of love, the shining sun shall lead us home.