Sometimes it’s good to visit where we’ve come from, if for no other reason than to see how far we’ve come. I wrote this poem many, many years ago when I could only see the darkness.
Thank You, Father for shining the Light my way.
By William Pierce
Sing songs to knights and kings,
And ginger-haired ladies walking castle walls.
No, I’ll never be anything;
Anything at all.
Just a bloated, battered body,
Floating on an endless sea.
And even if I were to wash to shore,
I’m sure all would pass me by,
Save the gulls, who’d pick my bones,
No one would wonder why I’d died.