The Maze Poem by Gil Gregorio
The Maze
Hark from the pain
of destiny he sang;
the place was for kings
neither queens to implore;
the rod of lashes paws gently
and mercy is song...
the maze was a gentle thought
just up to anyone;
the answer is left behind
the catalysts of life...
skeptics are the debators
of truth and just...
cynics left behind shunning
so must come adoring...
who is he that makes the line
streaming the lakes...?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/18/2024 10:07:59 PM # 1.0.0.1119
