Crust Poem by Francois Hoon

Six months pass,
But growing through the cracks in my dreams the grass,
A weed
Feeding my soul delusion as seed

God’s gifts the friends as wine
But weeping away going fade with time
Entertainment they were
- A recreation from truth
Making diversion, my consciousness aloof
Aiding so such that when alone
My body my life
Constrained, just a drone
Bound from entering the spirit of Throne

God’s water God’s dream
Dripping through a crust
Of blindness living in delusional rust
Though where it does fall
Golden life sprouting sparklingly tall
Feeding a soul
My life
Otherwise destined to fall