I wandered a broken man,

Devoid of soul,

How my diamonds did roll,

And slice my barren hands.



On white hot sands, of changing lands

I wandered amongst ghostly dunes.

With haunted eyes and muffled cries,

I hummed a quivered tune.



And met was I, by an echoed cry

Of a dog I know by name,

Red eyes glared, as mine froze scared,

His eyes a ruby blaze.



With a matchbox fumble and a liquored tumble,

I fell to my prayer-less knees.

And there I kneeled, with no strength to yield,

No words to muster my way.



It was at that moment, in the search for atonement,

The injury had become my own.

And there in the rain, the beast lay slain,

Alas, my truth had run me down.



Copyright © 2017 Charlie Hasler.
Words From An Unlikely Poet