Poetry

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He loves the dancehall
An aching void drove him there
He pursues so hard, a nothing
With none to tell him what,
Doing his thing is pleasure
Why does he love the dancehall?

Alone in solace, lost in thoughts
His heart’s not at rest,
Deep desire, nothing pacifies
Anything, anyone for now will do
To excuse accusing conscience
Why does he feel so empty?

Round in circles, life goes.
He wonders, is this all?
With none to guide, none to help
Life is not worth it, he mulls
Continuous grind, sun up, sun down
Could there be something different?

Here comes Jesus
Offering life unknown
Panacea to all life’s bothers
Fear has ceased to be a threat
Why did he not know?

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