By Yasen Vedrin
(Mortal Remains)
Life is a choice, and everyone chooses
Whom to believe in, and whose steps to trace.
We live but once, and once a soul loses,
And faith in its battles bleeds in this space.
Within the eternal, swift rush of the hour,
The heart drifts away with its beats and its strain.
To sigh from a call, to catch breath and power,
Preserving its target and hot fiery flame.
Life is a choice. And with it, fate traces
A portrait so true for the Faithful to claim —
A crown of sharp thorns that pierces and paces,
A chalice of wine with the Spirit and Name.
Traces left high on the steep, rugged highway,
Lit by the generous rays of the Skies,
And sorrows with roots from twenty-century's byway,
Marking the cheekbones and wide-awake eyes.
Life is the choice that happens to settle
Only but once, through the spirit or flesh.
It either breaks loose, or catches its metal,
But always arrives at the final edge, fresh…
So let the wise man make choices with care.
For heavy and light, a price must be paid…
The guilt looking up is washed by Blood there,
The guilt looking down… remains guilt unswayed!
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