It may have bled, but it couldn’t kill: A poem 

Posted bymontecyrilPosted inUncategorized

It couldn’t kill, though it may have bled 

The captive is no convict, is free as death 

Deserts are only an audience for the oasis in the head 

There is a night of a nemesis for the evil that is met 

Olive branches are not laurels; and talk of peace 

is a tragic diatribe when it is full of deceit 

Destiny will decide the one who will beg for a lease 

The mountains of today are tomorrow’s crease 

There is no dearth in determination no death in hope 

The dragons of virtue can conduct and cope 

An ocean of failure certainly does not let 

a valiant submarine witness dusk set 

The tables will turn, the evil conjuror will learn 

that suffering cannot make the bravest burn 

His bastion is not shallow, his field not fallow 

God’s hand guides and the courageous follow 

Published by montecyril

Hi, I am Monte Cyril Rodrigues and live in Melbourne, Australia. I am a retired journalist. I have been diagnosed with schizophrenia. I've had voices and visions all my life. I think it is a spiritual experience, my doctors think otherwise. I am a deeply spiritual person and keep having experiences with otherworldly realms.

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