The time had come..
At the crossroads
we stood
Our lives poured
out like a drink
offering
Our souls thirst
for living water
Our reason spent..
burned by
futility
Standing in a
scorched desert
between time
and space
Feeble man..man
of dust
is broken..
Had he not run
the race?
Did not his
imagination soar
to the heights?
Had not the crowd
cheered him on?
Yet, all that
remains is the
breath of life
that animates
his flesh and
bones
He became.. man
of no purpose
but his own
Chasing the
shadows of a
dying world
Running for
the prize of
a worldy
glory..
of vain
deceit
Now he yearns
for the true
bread of
life
He cries out
for his
Maker
He cries out
for God
Almighty..
He is heard
and forgiven..
He has entered
Paradise
yet his body
falls in the
barren desert
because he
chased..
a perishable
wreath..

cafetwo2010