Poetry by Barbeau
I trust you guys even though I really don't know any of you, but please don't steal any of these! I worked really hard on them.
Beneath the Rubble of Our Crumbled Mountain
Lost in the mistakes of the past,
We fall into the future.
Dazed in time, we find at last
An answer not quite suited
To the sickly eyes of our world
And the feeble hands now rooted
On our rotted cane, now curled.
We stumble about looking for
The ages of lost tranquility,
Finding nothing at all in store
Except surly and palpable senility,
Sent long ago by misdeeds of yore
To taunt us in pure humility
Of the ill conduct of before.
We must now rest and think
How to discover the bridge we burned,
Before at last we sink
Into the grave that we have earned.
Yet youth may still be in that fountain,
So long for which we’ve yearned,
Beneath the rubble of our crumbled mountain.