Wind dares aloud through trees and the hover clouds that creak,
A battle rages aloft and what light strikes driven swords.
To join arms, risking all?
No, your path takes you through.
With peaceful shadows in the tunnels of mind,
You wade only to pause and to clip your satchel.
Beauty spilt, profusely stilled to your unsuspecting back,
Away you stride, honour of guilt,
Your work is done, knife adrift.
Footy fatigian.
This is a poem to represent the self-dissatisfaction I feel for not being able to see the wonder of life and for having let and continuing to let people close to me down by shirking true responsibilities and tough choices.
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