It is amusing to consider,
Not by a gale wind or a lightning strike
But by a damned wrist
Forever injured, unkissed
Will the Hero fall.
Achilles in new role?

Angry laughter escapes me
A follower of this flawed life.
How cleverly I pick
The lost and the weak!
As I mourn unashamed
At the vagaries of fate.

But who is lost?
Who is weak?
Tears so profuse
With value of refuse
A corrosive cynicism
Fashionable pseudo-Nihilism.

So little faith in one
who I so loftily placed!
I dread to admit
It is I who lack grit
To be so easily swayed.
Heartbroken and dismayed.

Not too high, not too low, Wise said.
A state comfortably suspended.
Not so dark and jaded.
Not easily persuaded
Clear eyed worldview.
Probing gently, what’s true?

To the one with mythical wound
I say.
Lord does bestow with reason.
Perhaps this is not your season.
Meant are you to learn some more.
Be a clever man at twenty-four.

I promise not to label,
Villain, Hero, Afraid and Brave.
We are all and all are we.
A gift of malleability.
Free to make what we will.
React to what we feel.

I think fondly of your game
And wait patiently to see it once more.
I live the moment that I am in
Why fear what’s unseen?
And strive to remember.
Nothing ever lasts forever.


By Ami
7.29.2003