In the middle,
between here and there.
I see a flash of glitter,
I catch a glimpse of your flare.
I press forward,
my shoes worn away.
I can see my reward,
no more delay.
will this heat burning down never end,
will the wounds on my head ever mend?
Each step is an eternity, not quite real,
and the resolve is a bandage,
that cannot heal.
I tire, I take a break,
I sit down, I shake and shake.
I tip some wine and drink some ale.
I pause, drunken and growing pale.
My vision is blurred,
but from my stupor i look again,
The glitter is afar,
father than it has ever been.
I start again,
more tired than ever.
But this time i will not stop,
until I reach that glitter.
That glitter.
oh the joy it brings
it’s a sliver,
of that which the angels sing.
oh the hope,
it does bestow.
It brings life
a fountain of joy.
Adam Houle
adamhoule1 