End of the Road
Published in
Dec 30, 2019
My heart a song to sing,
my soul a gift to give,
my spirit yonder yearns,
for the touch that makes all gold.
It rains deep in mire,
and darkness a soul beget,
of which yonder none hears,
its spells shall neither hold.
Though it smears all in Gray,
and deathly the cold hand flinches,
we’ll stand above the riverbank,
embracing each it's past aglow.
May I sit no more with them,
who with spears pierced the heart,
and make none, the favour of hold,
and despises love ever shone.
The darkness of the heart,
the yearnings of the gods,
the merchant in evil stood,
with gaps to make you fall.
