Literature
Against the Current
Curtains of uncertainty enshrouding from without,
A lost and frightened child entombed with nervous doubt,
Swimming hard against the swell of trite and empty words,
The hands of love distorted, veiled, out of reach and blurred.
Each second passed becomes an eon unto my own soul,
Hoping, praying, and silently trying to learn my role,
For as the sun and moon move on, day and day again,
The shrinking glint from high above cries mutely for her friend.
To the empty sea ahead, whose depths contrast supreme,
The eyes of hope within myself, will yet retain a gleam,
For neither dolor nor despair can ever subjugate,
To one who holds true to themselv