Thorns
Shall I reside in shadows of past years
like a silhouette where light appears dimmed
as life’s entangled path cuts deep like spears
of perforating thorns overly brimmed?
Shall I guard the fragility of heart
and retreat stumbling with blindfolded sight
unless black shrouds unveils colourful art
of silky roses grown in shades of light?
Shall I remain dwelling and not then seek
life that awaits a brave travellers feet —
yet, would not a fervent heart grow so meek
with a dying rhythm of its own beat?
Amidst faith, scars from life’s thorns slowly heals
upon a path where inner self reveals.
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