Poem – Page 70 – A (wise) man of two faces

Living gaol 3

I am imprisoned
by these bitter memories
and my poor conscience.

We built the walls of pride and stone,
a castle which shall stand alone:
the lonely king at the top of the hill
inside the fortress of his will.

The earth grows cold and
the leaves have left the trees like
ripples in a pond.

In saving those who often stray
we seek to build a brighter day –
to purge the nights with crimson dawn
and suffuse the silences with song.

The mirror reveals
a face changed by the ages,
no trace left of youth.

The shadows soften
by flickering candlelight
and too much red wine.

There once was a wind
that blew through my heart,
whistling on its merry way.

But one day my tears dried up
and my heart became arid and desolate.
Neither sand nor sky stirred
and the wind stilled to empty gusts.

With a simple touch,
you lit a fire inside me
which burns to this day.

Little lost boy on the eye of the world
whispers prayers to unknown gods
and when he asks “Why?”
the night offers only reflection.

People aren’t perfect –
we each have our personal
virtues and vices.