The Lesson

I like to write poems!

There is a light beyond me,
beyond the path that I stare down.
the most florescent mystery,
like a child who has drown,

There is a legend told,
from a book, out past the lips.
a tale that's growing very old,
but it's power will never slip.

There is a man in history,
bolted to the ground.
like and old and useless tree,
they cut him to the ground.

There is a stone heavy and cold,
that baracades the crypt.
the air was getting thin and cold,
the angels came so swift.
they finally rolled the stone away.
and at last he arose again
 

Author's Note

Don't be too hard on me.