Sorrow

Countless actions continued in a blur

Not knowing the pain it caused

Not seeing the consequences

Of the things done yet undone

Sitting alone with words

Flowing from this pen

I write things that need

To be said but go unspoken

Removed from all comprehension

Of the world and its grandeur

I miss the depot where my train

was supposed to stop—stop to see

the hues and shapes of the tapestry

being woven by the ideas of

its inhabitants reflecting on its Creator.

I face the other side of the tracks staring

at a grey world torn by decomposing

flesh and the swirling of the reaper's tool

of destruction…I see my soul.

by G. Michael Scarlett