From on High

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

I was thinking in poetic verse while walking home and decided to put my thoughts on here. and yes...i really do think like this in my own head....


fallen prophet and fallen preist

cursed with the

Eye and Touch

ability to see and to understand

with nary but a look and touch.


I look around me in this world

and see pain.

I wear gloves to hide my skin

from contact with the pain.


But i cannot hide for my duty is clear

to help those

and to guide them along.


One case in particular

comes to my mind

the morose ragged angel.


She lays there

having lost her hope

her Innocence

her Happiness.

in a gesture as simple

as opening a door.


She opened that door

and her innocence was ripped away

she looked on the horrors within

and her hope went next.

Reality hit her.

and away went her happiness.


She is now just a shell.

Trying to get by.

Failing to understand so much

But understanding others so perfectly.


As i Look upon her pain

I cannot help but pull of my gloves

to put my hands upon her face

and to feel her pain firsthand.

i cannot help

but try to give her

some of my peace

through that contact


To be the Prophet i must watch so much

while not being able to help

i pray to god

to let me help just one

to let my abilities help just one


i just hope.

it will be her.

Submitted: February 07, 2007

© Copyright 2022 Moriden Aurelius. All rights reserved.

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Saturday Night

Very moving and well written. Enjoyed it.


Wed, February 7th, 2007 2:16am

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