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Echos of Time Past
Whose are the remote footsteps that echo
In my nightly dreams recurrently
Reminding me of former days gone by?
Whose melody still rings in the hallows
Of now empty corridors haunting?
One hears his mendicant song
As he begs for forgiveness, for peace,
This pauper has no place to rest
His weary head; his pall still draped
Over his listless skeleton hangs loosely
Woven with his evil deeds while on
Earth; E'en the lay of poetic ballad
Resonating doth not sooth his spirit.
In the abyss, where evil spirits dwell,
Is a lake of fire wherein tormented souls
Plead for water. They weep.
There is no rest day or night.
Their pain is eternal.
I awoke from this nightmare
Wet with sweat. Tears escaped my eyes
Like rain clouds overhead exploding.

I cry for the lost who know not God.

By dolores39

© 2018 dolores39 (All rights reserved)


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