(I hope this poem would sound good to the ears because I think I had put too much pressure on this and it feels like I lost something somewhere in the lines. I hope I am wrong about this presumption.)
Rotten with infections as he walked by feet
For he traveled alone on desert sands unknown
Without a guide for a weary pilgrim to meet,
Bound to endless hellfire, burned are his flesh and bone!
Seasons passed but absent remains the trace of rain
To somehow give a life for this pilgrim’s dry land.
Because of his suffering had he turned insane
For to him it seems nobody would lend a hand.
Gone away from him are the thoughts of spring’s fountain,
Escaped from his tongue the taste of honey and bread,
Fled he with the sands under the big bald mountain
With nothing to digest as he lives with the dead.
However, as he went on he found a palm tree.
Though at first it seems it is part of delusion,
Came he near then his strength revived for the journey.
At last, with tears, the pilgrim had restoration!
Faded are the clouds of darkness whose horse is pale.
Out from the blur, everything became crystal clear.
Heard he a voice which made the suffering so frail
Saying, “My son, I’m always near so do not fear”.
So after, went on the pilgrim for another
As he venture with the Light of Life forever!
Copyright © 2010 by Prince Obed de la Cruz
(September 14,2010; Marikina City)
(This poem is written by Obed Dela Cruz. To use it in a proper manner, please email him at firstname.lastname@example.org)