Self-Portrait of a Gravedigger

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The hero’s choice, subservience to a goal,

Exchanging all confined to cell by talent,

In return, conquest, mastery, your own hill.

With certain legacy, few can choose to look away,

Broken chains used to bind, re-forged to crown such courage.


The saint is called, overwhelmed by love, awed by God.

Some called once, others more, some say ego, others grace.

Promised purity, poverty too, for wealth eternal,

Freedom proxied to the highest power,

Commitment steals the heart, its ransom is your faith.


The artist born in to another world

Gripped by genius, disguised as madness

Driven to mine each second for the treasure of time.

The deal, bending light’s desire to refine imagination

Mold creation new and glaze in worship’s fire.


You and I, we lay our tracks each side by side

We build a path that can’t be turned

Future cast each day as we uncaring play

Until the day we waken to the whistle of panic’s scream

Buried alive we clutch our tickets, these rails have found their end.

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