The Longest Road Poem by Michael A Gra King 2

The roads are closing in on this mind;
the barriers are time ridden mists,
piercing the outer stretches of
human valour... like birds frozen in air.

As these boots I wear travel the core
of God, the universe, the nature of life,
all things tell me to hold a singular
course. Onward... ever forward.

But I am lost, dead to my own
laborious control; my outer shell.
An un-slaked beast crawls from my
heart, cavorting with my dead innocence.

The long road stands before me, but
I lie here shaking, gasping for a breath
of anything that might keep me from
the truth, the bile that rises, burning.

No more strength as I perish amid
the solid stone, the gravely petals
pulling me ever downward, down
the road which last throughout all time.