The loner path,
where my footfall is heard,
there it came calling
the urge that i on my own hand fall,
i wouldn't dare atall, i wouldn't dare.
For the glories of tomorrow
i long to behold,
so i wouldn't dare.
When present predicament is forgotten,
in the grave where the remains of yesterday
is laid to rise no more.
Though the urge came calling as of the wind of the west,
yet i wouldn't dare atall, i wouldnt dare.
For the glories of tomorrow i long to behold.
So i wouldn't dare.
Comments about this poem (The Urge by micheal john )
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