I
Here there is a forest
Beyond the open door
I sink into it
Rifle in hand
Pack on my back
These wilds are meant
For me to tame
To prove the worth
Of my old name
Yet trees don’t talk
Nor do they walk
Same can be said
For yonder rock
Piercing my soul
Without eyes to see
What is the difference
Between you and me?
Open my hand
Painting with blood
A face to rule over
Your empire of mud
Gentle yet stern
A passion that burns
Your works shall remain
As the century turns
A Life in Poems 