Journey’s End (The Other Side of Nowhere)
The shroud of years past clutched in its fold
Worn pleats of paths forever etched
Sweet lines birthed from some delicate mould
Now by Time’s hand craftily stretched
To fight by day and kneel by night’s light
Mourn lovers lost and offspring strayed
To grasp at Time’s raised heel, contrite
Seeking clemency from her blade.
Ô let her be, merciful One,
She who no wrong has done,
Spare her the wretchedness of now
Release her from her vow.
For tho she pleads “just one day more”
And tho her sigh sincere,
She does naught but whisper the roar,
Quivering scion of her fear
That Time may lift the somber shroud
To find her hidden well beneath
A spectre, head and shoulders bowed
Under the weight of Death’s cold wreath.
So free her, Time, from life’s sweet vow
Embrace her furrowed brow
Go heave and hurl that damned ply
And let her spirit fly.
Let carmine feet and weary head
Find well-deserved repose,
Silken billows, celestial bed,
A soul relieved of Mankind’s woes.