Wednesday, June 23, 2010


Jim Bronyaur

 For I am the creator of destiny

My weathered hands tear apart on cracked grounds

they tear apart on beat up hearts

(why is fate such a cruel beast?)

The crossroads you face

The time you spend looking and waiting for

(the sign)

Why, my dearest life,

that time is wasted

the sign is held deep within.

deep within a place of existent

(that is often left behind)

The place (you may ask) is not one of fortune.

not one of greed.

not one of lust.

not even on of hope.

But of life.

But of yourself.

But of your heart.

All within your destiny…

The destiny I create

And hand to you with the care

while my scars bleed to show that time is real.

1 comment:

Michelle said...

ahhhh - raw beauty!