Our Existence Is But A Breath Poem by Ghost Writer Insomnis

My shadow rushes aimlessly contending with all,
the ending vague, as a tree engaged in its fall.

In my rebellious silence I cry, rescue the only prayer,
Pride dictates ”Do as you will”, the ultimate nightmare.

Some call me The Wayward Traveler, just passing through,
on a journey to forever, no map, not even a clue.

A brilliant sycophant, lost in my pain is the memory of your smile,
contend for your time, how divisive the trial, how distant my mile.

Before I am called gone - in existence no more,
a story to behold, mind Who’s knocking at the door.

Wisdom begs patience through this chaos we call life,
the hatred, the apathy, the unbridled strife.

To stand alone at the end in His sight,
an impassioned resolve did I do what was right?

Now is our life before us, the entrance through it all,
we are given vision by the light, and blinded by the fall.

Resolve not to be shaken by the calling of fear,
search deep my spirit, only truth makes all things clear.

The order is upon all who stand tall knowing their rescue perilous,
not for the weak, the assuming, even those who actually care less.

We will all enter into our eternal suspension in time,
meet with me The Wayward Traveler at the cross of my crime.

Wait, It is empty my friend, the cross of all sin,
absent from me and you and never to be seen again.