Patience

possessing patience is not easy in difficult times.

 

Patience

 

The Cold will not defeat me. He merely slows my haste.

When war begins, hope warms within, and grants me time to pace.

But time leaves time for frost to form and in the wicked wait,

the pain seeps in and takes its hold so suffering is my fate.

 

Yet I am in possession of a vigor stronger still

that keeps my mind in dreams and by default it keeps my will.

While tortured by a bitter rage, death seems an apt effect,

but dreams do keep my soul ablaze and hope does not neglect

 

my ever growing need to see what lies just yet ahead,

and so I dream of fervent warmth; sunlight, for me, is bled.

And in my mind I see true light that will forever wait

for me for when I’m ready to break free from frozen fate.

 

Fatigue yet tempts me to submit to take Cold’s enraged numb

or act with no restraint rebelling with a Phantom Sun.

But these two choices self-destruct and keep me in the rime.

To truly thaw I must persist and yield myself to time.

 

Author's Note

a very personal poem for me. i wonder what it means to you? or just tell me your thoughts in general. thanks :)

Reviews

[March Books]

I enjoyed this poem, particularly the last line 'and yield myself to time'. I'm not very good at that myself, yielding or patience, lol.

[badincubus]

I love reading your writing, you are so talented.