These Dead Things

My hope is a ruin
A battlement crumbled
A broken keep that has seen too much cannon fire from the armies of despair.

My mind is a necropolis
A city filled with the dry bones of shattered dreams
And the rigid corpses of false expectations.

All that is left is the vast wilderness of my soul
Which I pray that God will seed with hope again
That something might be built here again that will prosper.

1 Response to “These Dead Things”

  1. 1 Deacon Blue
    November 14, 2008 at 11:09 am

    Apologies for the moment of darkness, folks. I haven’t gone all depresso or goth or something. Just some crap in life that keeps coming up and that I’m dealing with. Hit a bad patch last night, and well…poetry is cheaper than therapy.

    I felt better getting it out of my system…just hope I haven’t depressed anyone else along the way.

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Deacon Blue is the blogging persona of editor and writer Jeffrey Bouley. The opinions of Jeff himself on this blog, and those expressed as Deacon Blue, in NO WAY should be construed as the opinions of anyone with whom he has worked, currently works, or will work with in the future. They are personal opinions and views, and are sometimes, frankly, expressed in more outrageous terms than I truly feel most days.

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