The ground glows as the warmth of his spirit
is present in front of a marker of stone a sign
to me and promised before he left this plane for
a place on high among scribes who penned
his name in gold a long time ago.
His angel stood before the boy now a man with
one tear on its cheek to tell him that his father
was pleased and missed him like a father would
this man bows in silence listening as he whispers
to his soul and speaks to him in
words remembered so long ago of gentle heart
and kindness shown to this boy for
just being who he was a wet boy standing at
his door dropping rain from ragged clothes
given to him from charity Salvation Army stores.
So with heavy heart he says farewell as
depression sets in and cast its ugliness upon
him while he lingers under a spell that it put upon
his defeated darkened soul he hates himself
for being lost in comma by a trauma sent from hell.
Will he ever awaken from his twisted pass to find a
shining lamp to lead the way to safety and open up
a door of hope that won’t close so firmly in his face
with each attempt he makes to raise himself up.
He finds himself inside his mirrored reflection of his
beautiful mind that once was clear and brilliant but now
fogged up by the swirling mist hugging the shoreline
waiting to be lifted by the tides rolling
in from a mermaid’s breath.
Once he lived and loved and found a life worth
living and the music wine and beauty of the ladies
were forever present for this man who now is bent
and spent with a mind so confused and burnt
he is becoming mad.
Alone at night he tears his life in strips of colored
pieces tainted in shame by who he is and then awakens
from this dream dripping in Salvation clothes
wet from rain of so long ago.
© Copyright Vincent Moore 2010. All Rights Reserved.