The Hall of Gratuitous Praise

is writing just a path through a feather quill maze

with blank paper passages dawning words of grace?

is this labyrinth of stanza’s allays

just an ancient crafted ancestral craze

to reach The Great Hall of Gratuitous Praise?

.

navigating calligraphy corridors, baring our souls naked outdoors,

with hearts deeply mourning and fragile egos yearning,

evading negative captors whilst lost in average chapters

chasing literary accolades

on our way to The Great Hall of Gratuitous Praise

.

is our chosen path one of wrath or of sadness?

is it all just a kind of socially accepted madness?

what really fuels us to find this throne?

is it actually the fear of bleeding alone

compelling us, forcing us to go on?

.

and what is it that we expect to find?

some kind of solace for the mind?

everlasting joy for all our days

or a life spent basking in some sweet spelling haze

in this fabled Great Hall of Gratuitous Praise?

.

is it our yellow brick road or a paragraph of rough phases?

these trapdoors and tangents turning our pages

this Questing through boggy ink stained places,

seeking happily ever afters where we believe grace is

plotting our way to the Great Hall of Gratuitous Praises

.