The Writers' Circle

Well planned schemes can often fail,
The sweeter they seem in the marvelling mind
The more the spirit is staggered, 
When they appear in reality as bitter and stale.

Prying humans tussle from one lonely path to the other,
The journey only ending in dissatisfaction.
The now weakened heart drowns in sorrow,
Betrayed by passengers seated beside them as friends.

Weaved are our futures from the moment of our birth,
To the forlorn hour of our deaths.
Battle and sacrifice aren't defined to us at a premature age,
For our minds are too infantile to see beyond the fairytale dream.

Yet the best laid schemes of us humans, 
And animals alike;
Are scattered on the pathway through our long travels,
Where other dead dreams and belief in faith,
Lounge like corpses beneath heavy gravestones.