This is a new rendition of a poem I wrote on my blog.
The Silent Sands of Illness
Spheres be fed the blackened beast,
For long to fill his gluttonous feast.
Not life itself could escape it’s grasp.
For death to all the plague they clasp.
Yet random the beast, it toyed it’s prey,
Amused with the game of chance to play.
Ally of time, it’s patient was astound.
Stomach growls the best around.
But who would have thought that the beast – himself,
Could make it’s prey place their hopes and aspirations into a shelf?
What will the prey be bound to do, to make it through?
The beast as it preys, acting as a bough,
A bough of illness.
Amused again by the game and a chance to play,
It’s patients were astound — astound,
by the growls of the beast’s stomach – the growls of the best around.
Thank you for being with me. Let us rebuild a healthy state of mind.
Love, Francesca.Become a Patron!