The poem that describes itself...

Chronicles of the Spirit I

A life we lead through the cosmos ceaseless,

Without fear of freedom in the ether endless,

Till the Day of Judgment is nigh,

One of us is chosen and he must die…

And I am the one for HE chose me…

I have no means, but to follow,

This road to a realm so material, yet so hollow,

A world so distant and different from ours,

Where we are ensnared and devoid of powers…

If I gave myself to you, what good would it be?

A depiction of doom for the rest of my kind to see,

A poignant picture of death waiting and white,

Full of wrath, wisdom and spite…

I possess no choice but to adorn your frame,

For I have my sins and none else to blame,

And these are HIS plans that we serve and obey,

Like shinning scimitars, for THE soldier we lay…

Through the tunnel dark and deep,

Before you infant, emerge slowly and weep,

I dwell the flesh in you and give you a mind,

And without my company you have eyes yet blind…

A path to perdition through pain and distress,

With a few fleeting moments of greatness and grace,

“Is there a meaning of being? “, I muse,

When I am neither me nor you….