The road of life
Is paved with pitfalls,
Proverbial crablice
Constantly
Nipping at ones balls.
The end of the path
Be it a groan or a yell,
We descend into darkness
Dying plunge
Into the pit called "Hucking Fell".
An unknown journey
Where nobody ever returns,
Sprouting wings
Lay on ethereal cloud
Or below where fire burns.
Out upon the misty moor
Toss the coin for right or wrong,
The decision lies
At ones feet
As to where you will belong.
Many have died for salvation
Under a prophet's spell,
Did they reach nirvana?
Enter the spiritual nation
To the tolling of the bell
As the end approaches
As far as I can tell,
My soul will be warmed
And torn apart
In the furnace of "Hucking Fell".
Phil Hall. July 2015
Copyright philthepoet61.blogspot.com
I do like it. It's clear, sticked to the point & on top of it it really CARES about (...) -" Vse Uchreditelnomu obroniu"; Ex, bez Krista- Rata-ta! " - not my work; quotes from my most beloved poem / I have them a lot; but, yes - I like your work I read about the Hell. Hope - where is the spell? Alike Dr Kinbote & Shake - or more Sestian Knight? (Nabokov). George Cummins IV PS: might open my eyes.
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