Battle
The thunder of the charge roars its mournful tone,
The last chance, a slight one. The last hope, a fool’s one.
Rushing on towards the host of a pitiless foe,
On a plain of churned mud and corpses.
A clash like a thunderhead with hot air
Shakes the earth, as battle is done.
Good might as well not exist, there are only
varying shades of evil.
The fray is over. The victor, uncertain that they have won.
A wounded man sits his horse, alone in the sea of death,
He turns and rides away, the last remnant of good
Genesis
I swim in a deep black sea,
Cocooned in nothingness.
the chain of my existence
is wrapped thrice around my neck.
Like this, I ponder for a lifetime;
There is no light, no dark, Only now.
My sea grows smaller, and smaller.
Then, like a rapture, my sea is flooded
With sheer white light. I ascend, my chain
Is unwrapped, and cut. I am assaulted by
The scent of ammonia, and latex.
I can't run, I can't hide, I can't fight
I can only watch, blinded by the sheer
Force of my realized existence;
I don't understand, and it terrifies me.
I scream for whatever may lie above;
The air herself is burning me. Where I am gripped,
And held aloft, burns even more. This is life?
This is a morass of bleak hopelessness.
Now for the second time, I am launched
Into the cold, and merciless world;
I find myself pondering once again,
Only this time, it matters. I am on my own. How will I survive this new life?
Shall I be a slave to my own imagined shortcomings?
Will I ever do anything marginally successful?
I doubt it.
For too long I have been unwilling to change,
For too long I have been willing to settle,
For too long I have underestimated myself,
Yet in the end, I am screaming at silence.
