Poemz
Dan Kissam
CSC Junior



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There's a gamble in those eyes,
weighing, considering, pretending,
giving luck control of the game.
Being propositioned by God's little zealots,
smiling, believing, lieing,
proceeding with hollow truths to the altar.
One seeks another like them,
glancing, flirting, tiring,
joins the rat race for acceptance.
The army stamps out another mind,
fighting, suffering, continuing,
is given the world of hatred and spite.
The loner begins the path of wisdom,
wincing, straining, surviving,
passing on his perception of the Way.

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I am timid and shy
when held by your eyes.
Your soul casts my emotions
into the deep abyss of time.
I am defenseless to your cause,
and the grace of your wit.
Your sage seems unknown to you,
and I feel the pain of internal strife.
I must be your healer,
Father of Time passes me the gift of you.
Your pleasant smile to the wind
for duty is the geratest trust to hold.

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