Poetry of Jonny Alexander Nay

Is it really betrayal, when the spirit is to young to tell. That in this shining life, we await a hell.  Tell me then, by whose word, led you astray? by whose feet, you laid bare. and felt nothing, no hand, no care? --- If you had to tell your sweet, she would die. To live and love, and cry... Would you not lie? --- Once I was poised, to stand among men, to never bend. To watch the tides, of time, descend. Into me, in my being and send. A echo back, along no end.