CHOICE He knew not where he was, He seemed to be in a pool of darkness, Just barely visible were two paths, Each was bathed in light, vividly, One whitely bright, other bluish green, He seemed to be drawn towards the white, Yet, he felt compelled towards the green, He was cold, couldn’t feel a thing at all, He moved towards the lights, not sure, There were suggestions in his mind of both, It really was not clear, but oh so dear, Then he realized, he was dying, cut down, He had not made the skid... Sign in to see full entry.
FARSAILOR'S VOYAGE:
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About this Blog
An anthology of poetic thoughts and musings spaning space, time, and humanity. Written for those who dare to believe in the adventure of life and the wonder of the universe of human thought. I will add new material to this site at least several times a week, so feel free to check back. Comments are welcomed... If you have time, please take a look at my other blogs: FARSAILOR'S SHORELEAVE * FARSAILOR'S WEATHER GAGE * FARSAILOR'S WRITING MISADVENTURES * MURDER BY DEATH, AND OTHER GOOD STUFF
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