Lugh’s Garden

The mask I wear is one of words;
Not fashioned to deceive,
But simply to reveal a soul,
To those who might believe,
The measure of a man lies not
Within his earthly frame,
That all too quickly fades into
The Earth, from whence it came.

I live within a hopeless shell,
That time and life conspire
To grind upon the rocks of fate,
To quench its inner fire.
Though weight of years may bear me down,
And time may dim my eye,
Beneath the scars, a new fire burns,
My passion will not die.

To those who view this twisted wreck,
And quickly turn aside,
My words have failed, I wish you well,
I know, at least, I’ve tried.
A day will come, it does for all,
When beauty’s worn and thin,
You’ll pray your mask of words will show,
The brighter soul within.

This entry was posted on Saturday, August 11th, 2007 at 11:37 am and is filed under Poems. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.