Like a master swordsman
Who parries the thrust of lesser men,
With barely a thought,
I, made myself master
Of my impending caprice;
The debris of my beloved soul;
Whilst His agape love,
Whistled into the high winds aloft,
I was done
For the worst, I feared.
Afar off, terrified
Aghast; Dread at last.
My hopes shattered
So, I listened keenly
To the whooshing winds,
To the running waters,
To the chirping birds,
I listened to nature
To findβ me.
For the nature I had,
Had lost its form.
The only was out
Was through;
It was tough.
So, I stood yonder,
Against my trackless footprints
Drowning in my bleeding heart;
Broken, bitter and blind
To see I was the mastermind,
Of my own demise.
In the bleak of winter,
I closed my eyes,
Sighed,
And died, alive.
