There’s No Guarantee

As he traverses the hours left to him, will he awaken in kind?

Filter the stories that need to unwind,

Will they ever see the light of day?

From lips that have failed to say,

Although the whisper on the wind is known to all,

Will pride still come before the fall?

******

The answers were written in the ages,

Pulled from stories with ragged torn pages,

To read between the lines is a painful necessity,

Figuratively speaking there’s no ingeniosity,

But there will come the time, when payment is due,

And it’s looking pretty expensive, bankruptcy ensue.

******

Unless, the seeker of the truth succeeds,

Only then, only then, can he stop the bleeds,

Sleep will settle in upon his weary head,

And he’ll dream pleasantly, the nightmares now dead,

If only he could find the courage to make it right,

And bring the stories out into the light.

******

Such far fetched virology kills off matters of the heart,

Separating young lovers, forever keeping them apart,

The years meld into each other but the pain still reigns,

And two people awaken to never being the same again,

He has the magic held within, locked tight, although he’s lost the key,

The necessary implement to set him free.

******

Tomorrow is not granted, so there’s every possibility he’s signed his name in regret,

But he still has a window of opportunity, the future is not quite set,

The lines have been drawn, will he step up to the plate?

Or will he wander within his anger until it’s too late?

Time has set a deadline, such a strict task master,

And it seems with each daydream, the minutes pass faster.

******

Wisdom does not necessarily grow over the years,

Especially as he lives solely within his fears,

Will he choose to stand tall and face his wrongs?

If not, he’ll forever wander far from where he truly belongs,

But then again, maybe, just maybe, that’s the aim,

Never fully committing to gifting his name.

******

Either way, the truth has made itself known,

The stories unravel as the years have flown,

Darkness draws near, the light silently snuffed,

Always the way when enough is enough,

As the day draws nigh and the sun lays her head,

He’ll be left with his decisions, his choices; he’ll have made his own bed.