The Arrangement

The Arrangement

I find myself prostrate once more,

Life’s burdens casting me to the floor.

It’s not the first nor will it be the last,

That my soul languishes helplessly cast.

Eyes torn from rutted and bloody by tears,

Causing washboard wrinkles and colored fears.

“It’s not the last battle,” silence whispers,

Matching my stride, unlike casual drifters.

“What say you of this that we see,

Is it temporary and soon I’ll be free?”

“It’s not for me to say this outcome you ask,

But walk with you upon this temporary path.”

Two conjoined travelers inseparable on life’s road,

Walk and speak as if sharing the same soul.

For life, this fanciful mirage before me I see,

A collection rippling in time changing constantly.

Yet, in the future not far from where I stand,

I can make out the pattern of this masterful plan.

It wasn’t my will that I needed to fulfill,

But surrender my life to eternity’s Bastille.