19920623-2213-08 19991124-2301-06
A lonely man descends the hill
onto the dreary, desert floor
of gloomy, grey, and desolate sand
as dismal as his barren soul

For once a spark shone in his eyes
of lofty dreams and joyful hope
His soul was shredded into two
all torn and trampled, bleeding, dying
Hope is but a mocking word
For sorrow seeped into his heart
Is his life lost? A tragedy;
for mayhap greatness could have been
or mayhap 'tis mere vanity.

This lonely man descends the hill
in search of peace, in search of hope,
in search of pain and dole's surcease
A single sip of sweet nepenthe

But mayhap all is lost for him
What might have been will never be
© 1992, 1999 by Victor Ganata