and what he seeks is not
“realistic,” indeed it cannot
be described in the physical

To Transcend One’s Prison

To quit this coil
of shame and darkness

To slice
through the blurry December sky

To end
today early
and make it until tomorrow
(as we have done countless times
against all odds).

Because it burns
or rather, burned
and now
like the ashes of a phoenix
(the ashes of one who came too late)
it takes only the force
of a winter breeze
to move us
and we fade.

What would the hero from his keep?

Is he torn?
no,
Is he wounded?
not beyond repair,
so
why does he mind?
Why does he care?

Because, even though he sees it, feels it, could almost taste it,
he is still only a man
and,
to his displeasure and surprise,
a man at war.

A man at war! I trow,
though he has scaped the fray
seeks not glory, nor indemnity,
nor anonymity, nor love, nor liberty
but dignity.