Man of the World

A Poem by Dunamis Pneuma

Man of the World

Cursed it is now, all that it held dear to its cold heart is gone like the passing days of its youth. Dreaming of what could have been is a like poison to the heart. All the while it begs to go back to a time when nothing else mattered, but the laughter of children, and the rays of the sun seemed to shine. Only to find that all it use to know, and the reality of what really is, are night and day. Its' dreams taken by a reflection now unrecognizable. Sin corrupts all and as fate disappears from its' sight its' hope fails. It begs with all it has left to just let it go back, but is met with silence. Broken it watches in anger, and sorrow as it slowly fades, lost in shadows. If he cannot help it then who can, if he does not believe in it who would? Harsh is the world of man so different from what it was told in the time of its ignorant youth. Images of an ocean village remind it of a better time in life, but cannot take away the pain. Cursed is it now, now a man that has everything and nothing. No longer a man of life, but a man of the world.