
The sky lay leaden over the day;
And that day, for him, was the last there would be.
Like a panther, he bristled with inner fury…
And knew the long road that lay head was narrow
But the thunder drove him on.
Into the sleek, black lining of a coffin he strode,
Resolute, unyielding—unshakeable as a ship’s mast in a gale
Threw wide the coffin’s doors to see his maker….
And made known to the masters he had bled for
That he would never be their thrall again
And the thunder drove him on.
Met with only silence
He crawled from that grave,
Beaming in the sun of new renewal and new life
And drew his first breath in years…so, so many years…
It was sweet, and warm and as gentle as a breeze’s kiss
But, all at once, like some distant harbinger,
the thunder took it away
and he began his long road home
As he arrived at the doorway of his new life,
He sprang, again, like a great panther who had seen it prize
And entered his final coffin…
This one had been made as a refuge, calming and quiet
Personal and anchoring—no memories from that other place….
Like a vault against his world
But he could not stay—he was to crawl from it too….
And never look back
Only forward
To a place of true peace where he left his pain behind
To never harm another nor make himself a slave
And the thunder drove him on
But –the thunder took another form
It rang inside his head;
He saw the world spin away from him
And felt as one who’s dead…
He span and twisted through time and space
And grasped for his world now gone
To wake only in a strange new place….
But the thunder drove him on.
Leave a Reply