Archives

Combatant Of The Night

I trudge forward now, dropping pen and ink. Left to float are pages of thoughts and sorrows to drift and dwindle in the lamp lighting my way. A soldiers woes and tales of memories long past pouring forth with a whiplashing of wounds, reopening to glare at me in my humbled state… Nothing left but to turn a new leaf over now… nothing left.
I stand aside and let the waves roar upon the sky, I stand aside and watch the lightning strike the earth. Water ruined clothing clings about my feet and I stand, though weeping, I stand and stir not a lie. “The world is a devil if ever I saw one.” My mind thus cries, claws tearing from the frothing sea, long spindly fingers of darkness so near I can hear her breath, soft and moaning so near, so near.
I grasp tightly to the last scrap within my hand, one more heartbeat, is there time? I cannot find a wisp of thought worth sealing, not a thought worth leaving. I’m staring out into hells night with the water pouring over me both from the skies and the sea, the mother of all nights… Why, why must it be? I feverishly turn my eyes upward and shake my fists as the thunder pounds upon me, ears ringing, mind swimming.
My knees cold and broken meet the concrete, puddle torn, cobble crossed path I shortly stood upon, blood sore and frozen. No time… There was never time and now she must be paid. I weep with the night, that swollen moment of a night, never forgotten in my mind.
Paper crushed between my fingers and spinning down, down. Am I lost? I wonder, watching the frantic paddle of a seagull turning, tossed from wave to wave like seaweed attempting to find shore. “Am I but to shrivel up here, in the now awakened time of everlasting mourning?” Greyness, greyness and the roaring green black tide… “That is but me.” I think aloud as I watch the seagull cry, its feathers drenched it spins and spins… Will it forever be such? One long storm, thoughts and feelings intertwined and a scattering of paper like leaves upon the brimming winds and turning tides.
Not a question, no, not at all, this a knowing. Within my soul I feel it calling and I must stand on those water washed toes and meet the anger of the sky. My fist is raised, “I shall fight!” Always, always… As the dawning sparrow cocks her head at me I nod, she knows, she sees the morning rise of daylight speaking.
I sigh. To trudge towards my cove, cozy by a warm fire. Yes, tomorrow comes and I am still here, here walking like a solider within the night.

 

104_0480