January 29, 2011

morning battle

He closed his eyes,




as if getting lost in the music,



listening to the melody of his soul,

as he held his sword,



and to him, his sword...is his soul




the sunlight strikes the edge of the weapon,



as he slowly dances with the steel,



the leaves sway around as if avoiding him,



an invisible enemy is repeatedly slayed,



his eyes still closed, his mind in rewind,

to the time he was betrayed,



the here and now, becomes a fantasy,

the steel, shines through the air,

rain falls, becoming blood, in his mental battle,



He slows down, prepares for one last strike,



and opens his eyes...




written by: Frank Hannen-Pantaleon