Drained of life, stuffed with frass
All my dreams are broken glass
Bleeding hands grasp what remains
Dripping down, my clothing stains
You will not control my soul
I will move on and be made whole
Never again will I rest
Always pushing another test
Bitterness and pain I will savor
Ashes and gall are now my flavor
The branding iron I stare down
I bend it now to make my crown
I pound my flesh to make it tough
Push my limits beyond enough
There’ll be no fat upon this frame
Power and force only remain
May my
bath be ice
My drink bitter
May my groans echo
My breath labor
Let the pain seared into my mind
Force me, new heights to find
Forward it moves me to the end
I grit my teeth, I will not bend
Copyright June 2017
Duane Windell Phillips
Munich and Romania
This is the first of a multi-part series based on my observations from a recent Eastern European trip my wife and I took. In each I will sh...
No comments:
Post a Comment