Box of Mysteries and Miseries

Box of Mysteries and Misery

 

So cold and lonely it lays aground.

It holds its seat, making no sound.

Charcoal black hiding from all light,

To be near you, dares you to be its confidant,

And that is such a task none can handle.

 

If only care was given to this,

The waves would not have swallowed bliss.

Such natural things deploy plots,

The devilish cries allow men the “Great Scotts”

And that is such a task none can handle.

 

The moonlight shines down, box aground.

An island that is free from sound,

Desolately tortures the box,

Yet its obstinacy is sturdier than isle’s rocks.

But such task is one none can handle here.

 

Tis a game of wit and stamina,

Who can outlast who in this brawl,

The isolation or the box,

Who stands firmer than such flimsy island rocks?

Such things are tasks none can tolerate.

Reviews

[BThomvanWart]

Hmmm...I don't really grasp the concept of this piece, but it does sound rather interesting. It could be the possibility that I'm over looking what the meaning is behind this piece...