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Rated: E · Poetry · Philosophy · #1556041
"Grasp" (written on 11/13/2008) A plea to those who waste precious time.
Slaves are we, Its clay to mold.
Broken dreams. Lies untold.
Hands not held. Tears not shed.
A figment, toying with our heads?
Is It pursued, or are we chased?
Thoughts not shared. Un-embraced.
It flies, and we are on the ground.
Hiding, yet It's never found.
Day by day. Year by year.
Not admitting what we fear.
In a bottle, all around.
With stealth It creeps, without sound.
A prayer. A fate. A hope. A friend.
Frantic for some unseen bend.
Desperate and wanting more.
Not knowing what we're fighting for.
Like sand. Like smoke. Never there.
Nonetheless, faced everywhere.
Are we to fear Its choking hold?
Or cherish moments, precious gold?
Watching, waiting, cautious fools!
Tied by conscience, bound by rules.
Afraid of what unknowns could mean.
Danger of lives ripped at the seams.
Wary, still, of what we'll find.
It spans ahead, we crawl behind.
A glance not shared. Whispers un-bared.
At times, it seemed like no one cared.
Tables unturned. Knowledge not learned.
Knowing what it is to yearn.
Forever standing in Its wake.
Linger...
Revel...
For Its sake.
© Copyright 2009 E. L. Derwin (crazyberry1234 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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