There was once a man

There was once a man I knew
bright and curious
From the well of his youth had sprung
life and love and hope
And as the moons passed and the seasons changed
this man had stories to tell of all that he owned

There was once a man I knew
led by joy and faith and love and ambition
his empire held him at the table's throne
through the passing moons and the changing seasons

With warm embrace, he held his delicate love
with joyous laughter he chased boredom to the shadows
and met his children in their colourful world of play
and fantasy

Then with calloused rage, his mind turned against him
as a loyal dog turning with rabid intent
The shadows of discontentment enveloped his hope for calm
and he wrestled the moon, to hold away each coming dawn

Now, lost, he wanders the barren plains of his soul
Forsaken by self and the mighty I Am, he lays low with a shuddering cry

There was once a man I knew
now nowhere to be known
Now with death's vacant stare he sees
and lives each day forsaking his throne

Who he was has gone
his past adventures lost to time
that spark to ignite his curiousities and joy
snuffed out with a river of tears

His heart beats, dangling on a delicate thread
above the churning tide of tears that rage
a storm in his stomach's bed
Were his mind to surrender, surely that thread would break?
and with quiet relief, the heart would plummet to drown
and shudder its last beat as, in this sorrowful storm,
it sinks
for the last time

I am that man once known
here to confess my death
My self has passed and lived his last
I am left to wander without soul or rest

Beyond my grasp, he that I was lays cold
I cannot revive or restore that person of old
His body, crumpled and weak, I cannot hold
a good man is gone, with no funeral march or tearful stories told

Sometimes I see pictures, I see his face
where he smiled and laughed, or held a child in warm embrace.
Where he conquered a mountain or sought to share cheer
But I am all that is left
and he is not here.

He was a good person, a good man
who has long-since passed
I am not what he became, but perhaps God stole him away?
Rather that than think he is lost in me