A dead man walked.
To himself he talked
No one spoke back.
He got really sad.
He closed his eye.
To see what resides.
Behind all lies.
That hide front his eyes.
Within he began.
To see life breathing.
Deep in slumber.
Sheep without number.
Sprang out in view.
All became true.
In light he saw plight.
The righteous of right.
The wrong of song.
A place he didn't belong.
Too big his soul.
Too bright his glow.
A sight unknown.
In the thralls all shown.
Untrue.
A dead man does not walk.
He glides.
Overall, that seeks to hide.
Their face from the light.
Of true sight.
For he is blind.
By love.
Sweet as a dove.
Swift as a hare.
He falls not snare.
To the trap of sympathy.
For he hath known empathy.
For he is blind
To all he is kind.
A dead man walks.
; More than meets the eye is thy.
About the Creator
Jameel Hodges II
A young man living as best I can to walk as the sages, scribes, and leaders of tribes. All are welcome as they are and for who’ve they’ve chosen to be.
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We'z Walking on a Path Ruled By Numbers
This road has felt endless, yet limited; every step tracked. Inching away along this path, I feel trapped. Confined. Left to this narrow passage that may one day amount to something greater. Time is not a concept. Only distance. From start to finish, I laugh and cry and attempt to convince myself that this is worth it. I cannot stray. I must keep going. Every step etched, is a step taken, is measured as more than before. I cannot even recall how I got here. Maybe I don’t even really exist. Just another tick marking off a perceived presence. Of what though? I am just another line drawn. Nothing more, nothing less.
By Oneg In The Arctic6 days ago in Fiction
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