Salvation

Weary, I meander whispering, on rambled wasteland trails

haunted by hard-hearted

         and hateful half-truths

that stealthily stalk the unhealthy soul.

I perch on silent tiptoe's hope,

teeter on restless terrains,

to wrestle sanity and regain

some  solid ground of peace.

Trial's tumultuous tirade,

tantrum of a demonic whirlwind,

spins a myriad of shadowy sins,

to tempt and lead away

brainchildren born to be orphaned

by some stoic, egoic maniac.

In man's world,

I can only mope, hoping to somehow miraculously cope

with some pretend savior that shall 

eventually forsake me.

Teary, my eyes trickle onto paths of woeful wanderings 

and bleed their unhealed sorrow

undaunted by lean, mean, 

feigned-pain smiles. 

Ripped with fright ,

into nightmare screams,

that seek for rescue's  slumber,

and lumber midst the lonely.

Compassion's heavenly healing,

like light, white feathery angelic wings  

wraps my dozen, dazzling dreams,

to protect those long gone away

brainchildren born of cosmic logic 

within some distant, omniscient consciousness.

In God's world,

I can only grow , knowing how to  somehow miraculously flow

with my true Savior that shall 

never forsake me.

~P.S. Colley

Dec. 2024

Cries of the Unheard Collection