Just like the sack of burden on the back of the pilgrim
That journeys along with him in both heart and mind
The same is mine, although I conceal it with big grins
And ignore them in faith as though I am blind.Until the burden is raised, a vein joy I would express
Maybe the maker would some day,, my case address
If not then I choke with all of my sad weight
With hope and faith while my end I await


It aches my very beginning and my end,
the giver, the taker the soul in my bone.
I adore your essence, a tragic death-bend.
Heal and reveal your clutches, leave earth alone.

When you do nothing in death, express the chime

Let me read heresy tasting like lime,
Ring out your emotions, burn them with the moon.
and your story will breathe with clocks ticking soon.

Ruddapoet [TRCP]

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