Untold Epics Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Reluctant, hesitant, standing back, straying farther from
the reaches of indecisive moments, afraid of the pain,
fulfilling destinies of thoughts about death and the ending
of it all.

Placed in tombs of displacent ineptitude, running from the
waves of reality as they bounce and knock over everything.

Pulling under with the heaviness of sorrow, tranquil forever
after in thoughts of unending peace.

Untold epics lying within, awaiting their replies in ancient
speech, unrelated to everyday topics, those held within are
secret forebodings of a past life once had.

There are no escapes from feckless aptitude, life cannot be
lived in disgrace, beings brought to the life they hold
within, touching others, becoming open to the horrors of past
nights.

Dawn rises, dusk sets upon the reasoning faculties of a mind,
wherever trying to hide, it seems only to focus brighter and
more insistent upon the brain of interior life.

Solace does not hide away, it is not tucked beneath ages
of memories, feeling it at times, consuming this entire
being and liking the way it feels.

Perfumed, odorless, matches of a soul, reaching to the
heavens, praying to be let go, praying for a life beyond this
one.

Hanging head in sorrow, walking on filling the daily destiny
of myriad tomorrows, until a day becoming, on heaven's hearth,
alone, contented, full of God's love.

Circumstances not unwinding from the jungle undergrowth,
instead twisting and turning and pulling with it.

Let go you say? Would like to, but this barrier insists
that I may not go beyond it's protective walls. What can be
done? How can it get around it?