Survivor
Belly full with her gifts of friendship. A curious one she iz..
Her thread through life has made her a survivor, -a crafty one at that..
She paints a beautiful picture, but sheds tears behind the canvas.
So tiring is it, to be one of natures survivors.. Courageous and beautiful
on the outside, wondering when its all going stop on the inside.
Always in search of who to share the torch with, who to pass it to when
the time comes.. and perhaps sometimes, who to burn with it..
It seems the survivor most always has its youth robbed blind, by
that twisted hand of fate. The reward, for such a heinous crime? A gift
beyond compare.. In what seems like moments, the fabric of Life unfolds
before us. Why even a few threads are handed, to allow us to toy
with our own fate. ..If only this gift gave us the power to see the hand.
And now you dance to the lullaby of Time, soaking up the essence of all
around you. Casually tasting every concept, weather good or bad.. hoping
not to be engulfed by the awesome power that you posses...
As you wander through Time nudging fate the way you do, remember all the
shoulders, big and small, that brought you to your current state of
being... remember the ones that stand upon your own..and be careful not
to trip over the sleepwalkers...For their presence is as just as yourz..
..Carrying this dam torch has its rewards, i guess.
Gregory Alexander Poulos
Reason for writing:
A follow up to Vampires, she came back two days later, cooked me dinner, and talked the world.
Its about those who have achieved greatness thru hardship, yet still battle with
themselves to do the the right thing.. ..wondering why its so hard to choose between
self destruction or self inspired prosperity..(sp?)
Birth sign: Not entered
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View more poems by Gregory Poulos (Libra) aka Soundwash.