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The Words At The End Of The Hall
by David Pekrul I came to the end of a very long hall, Where, all down the sides, there was written in scrawl, A piece of a message, but only a piece, But I could not read it at all. I sat on the floor as I looked at the wall, The one just as long as the length of the hall, And tried to decipher the things that it said, But I could not read it at all. I once was so mighty, but now I am small, Because, I could not read the words on the wall, I knew they were special and they were for me, But I could not read them at all. I broke down with weeping and started to bawl, Because, I could not read the words on the wall, I tried to imagine the things they would say, But I could not read them at all. Then as I sat staring, they started to call, And then, very slowly, they jumped off the wall, And painted a picture, as bright as could be, I now read the words on the wall. They told of a time before, when I stood tall, A time before I had decided to brawl, A time before using the drugs and the drink, A time before I lost it all. They said I was now at the end of the hall, A time to decide and no longer to stall, A time to run forward, no lagging behind, But all I could do was to crawl. So now I am left at the end of the hall, I'll never be free, but forever a thrall, I'll ever be haunted by what I have read, The words at the end of the hall. by David Ronald Bruce Pekrul www.myhiddenvoice.com The poetry of David Ronald Bruce Pekrul If this article is used in any publication, please send a copy of the publication to David Pekrul at 170 Carr Cres. Okotoks, AB T1S 1E3 Canada E-Mail: [email protected] Article Source: http://www.faithwriters.com |