Poetry Sunday

The Soul’s Descent

Plummeting downward I watch it fall,

the deep abyss, the shadowed wall.

Gripped by pain and tidal emotion.

Wrought with fear an inner devotion.

In this fissure of my being,

analyzing all I'm seeing.

Foulness of vengeance lurks throughout,

seeds of hatred sprinkled about.

Once there lay a fluent stream,

drought and hunger fuse a team.

Lust it lingers in this pit.

I try to flee...but here I sit.

Liquid anger claws at me.
My very essence squints to see.

Howls and screams; a wailing sound,

crimson walls melting 'round.

Fires racing, torments edge,

keeping me from realities ledge.

I struggle within this master’s plane,

as wilted red walls fall down like rain.

My soul has found a resting place.

Torrents of tears stream down my face.

Trickling along like glistening sand,

pain is held in the palm of my hand.