All I see within my sight
disappears in the gloom of night.
All that is inside my head
are only dreams of someone dead.

All that I am or appear to be
floats like dreams away from me.
All the things my soul do'th do
seems to be the works of a mortal fool.

All the things my heart do'th feel
flow from a wound like blood so real.
All that is inside of me
is only the search for, tranquillity.


Charles M. Harrison

10/01/1988

Posted on 02/04/2003
Copyright © 2024 Charles M Harrison