Gentle Warrior ( for Nathan )

 

 

Twenty seven years old as he sat

Hands holding his shaking head

The TV dead

The pile of melted plastic

That was once his life

Now shattered and broken

For a better image of himself

 

As if some mummified part of him

Had broken free

Free of all the bandaging

Which had made him believe

 

What he saw now in them

Was nothing

 

And the light poured in through his window

A brilliant spotlight of truth

He felt his skin emerge

He turned and looked at the palms of his hands

And saw what they were worth

 

As if on a flood

He new himself

A revelation far more intricate

Than anything his thoughts of previous

Had bonded to explanations

 

He was awakened

 

And through the crystal mirror of his own clarity

Saw at last, the man he was

And if mistaken before

Those misfortunes now of no consequence

 

He rose to his feet

And years of shackles breaking

Fell needless, heedless

The petty minded dross, of society

That had sucked to weakness

All identity

 

One step, on steady, sure feet,

And purged became this warriors heart

Now defiant

Stronger

The connection he made to love 

And the light poured in through his window

A brilliant spotlight of truth

He felt his skin emerge

He turned and looked at the palms of his hands

And saw what they were worth