THE OLD FOOL

THE

OLD FOOL
The imperfections of my dream,
a cold wet wind blowed me off course,
exposing my life to the giants slays,
burying destiny with prolonged penury,
smiling and suffering....
like a fish line drawn up with its prey,
engulfed by the doom of its shallows,
redundancy took me in as a procrastinator,
i attended best churches,
but had little faith,
i did less work but I prayed more,
folding hands in expectations of the impossible riches,
fool... I am myself-
the biggest of my kind,
holding mere air as gold,
and for half my year on earth,
I wasted my time and life,
to the miracle that can never come,
in emptiness I remain.