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
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