Unbelief

I stand upon the precipice of time,
To fall into the icy winter’s frost-
A molecule of doubt in hope sublime,
Shall break the soul in two- forever lost.
A flame about me dances in the wind,
The word of Heaven whispers in my heart,
Beatitude defiles ugly sin,
And joy has pierced my marrow like a dart.
Yet sorrows ere oppress my fellow men,
And tides of triviality engulf,
Disquietude invades my private den,
I rip apart my blessings like the wolf.
The virtues shout that joy belongs to them,
The vices whisper- evil is a gem.
-Tyler William O’Neil
-September 25, 2009

True Glory

Napoleon survives within the grave,
Inscribed in glory, monuments of stone,
Inspiring young Frenchmen to be brave,
Remembered from old Clio’s noble throne.
Yet some do not survive from ages past,
And yet they strive for virtue all the same,
Some brave misfortune with a valor vast,
To love and serve, and earn a silent fame.
Yet glory does not live in halls of stone,
It reigns in majesty from far above,
For ‘tis not money, fame, or battles won,
But sanctity and virtue, holy love.
True glory rests not in the halls of men,
Beatitude exceeds their fallen ken.
-Tyler William O’Neil
-August 14, 2009