The Shrine
How long...living on wishes
too often clouded with despair
visions of another life
once...you were there.
So many lifetimes have passed
season after season come and gone
now the wishes faded darkly
and the nights so very long.
Who would share their light
pull me from this storm
smooth the fabric of this man
trade his cold...for a place that's warm.
What is seen by your eyes
is the facade of your desires
but emotional poverty has no face
it's a heart without a fire.
You see, it's more than an empty bottle
it's a shrine to a world in pain
and the soul, the heart of the sufferer
has it's label, but emptiness is to blame.
Please login or register
You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
Login or Registerleave comments/feedback and rate this poem.