POETRY

ONE

WOE IS ME

Without fail I was stripped, head down from the margin. 300 hundred men alike I saw the fruit I lack from The Father. For peace and honour I found favour from a king. Readying my lamp and oil in patience while my light beams in a chest. Three days and three nights for my lover, I sit here in deep waiting like the virgin Queen and I don't wanna-

We're witnessing the ends, Gideon like visions with no end such a nasty tale for this hasty end.

I wish I hadn't asked for the blessing, it comes with angst. I ponder tho if I would be as lenient and growing in love- I can't imagine for I piqued purpose. Begged for proof with the fleece and the dew I found myself in a season of subtraction. This I'm aware of and adamant; He who ushered me then is still present and a signet ring for the favoured hides with my treasures. Louder than a flute I lament as the rapture threatens I should have prayed to be like Paul instead. Foolish in my youngin years I made an idol out of marriage. They say life follows a well crafted pattern, was this bound to happen?