The Wanderer: A Collection of Poetry

Emergence

In the midst of Hell's fury I faltered and fell

as the Devil enchained me in the fiery swell,

as the chaos of nighttime swept over my soul

and the sum of my life lay worthless and cold.

So, Hell's angels flew to me with a curse on their lips –

the poison that seeped through each thong of their whips.

And I screamed through the scourging and cried from below

at the madness it echoed, 'This is all I know!'

And I wandered in sadness, bruised, beaten and maimed,

through the ashes, guilt-ridden, embittered with blame

set for Hell's angels, the Devil and you.

But I saw in the distance the Undying with new

hope kept in His bosom to even the scale;

the dawn of days coming.  The darkness grew pale.

And I turned to Hell's fury, uncertain of time,

what may burst or bleed from me as I climbed

out of the madness that held my weak frame

for ages in tears without purpose or name.

But I will rise up with the power and will

given by the Undying who guides my feet still

to seal that horizon, the gate of my past –

that bitter-sweet fury that haunted and masked

what lay in my future at a threshold of joy

that all my despairing could never destroy.

For there will be peace where the inferno raged;

a hunger for wisdom in the tender of age

to quiet the chaos – that plague in my mind –

replaced with a soft understanding in time.

And you will find peace when you come to my door

in a flame or a flicker till I am no more.

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