Alone.

[Bernard de Silva]

   ALONE.

How barren, grows that solitary life,
one awash with sorrow, running rife.
Fate’s passage looms, one to bemoan,
a dreary pathway now trekked alone.

How seldom, does one’s captive mind,
any escape from its torment, ever find.
Heavily burdened, remains one’s soul…
Few of Life’s joys now linger to extol.

How blinding then, become shed tears,
when Frustration’s lot, to one appears.
Loathsome, as well, becomes the quest,
when to Futility alone all deeds attest.

Banished now, the sweetness of success,
faded, are the memories, joyous to excess.
Relief may be one escape so few condone,
to quit desolate legions, who walk alone.

Seems memories calling fortify one’s soul,
allow chastened minds, to regain control.
Whilst some pathway, before us extends,
Life, remains a challenge, Sanity defends.

Surrounds might be barren…or so appear,
but is it Reality, or is it loneliness we fear?
Life, Pilgrim, is a tablet none can rephrase,
it contains a script, Man, should not erase…

©. Copyright: Bernard de Silva. 27/7/10.

[ncauser]

one day bernard you will strike the bitumen an then it will be plain sailing.

[Bernard de Silva]

G'day Noel,
               hope it's a touch more rewarding than the last tine I
'struck' the bitumen at a great rate of knots...it didn't appear to
benefit yours truly, or the motor cycle to any great extent. Mind
you there was some sailing through the air between touchdowns...
                Cheers Mate,
                                 Bernie...