The Poetry Marathon

I was born to walk this earth,
and bear witness to its humble treasures.
The rhythm of my boots in-sync,
one of Life’s intrinsic pleasures.

Through Field, and Stream: Asphalt and Gutter
I was made to find new paths,
To find as much beauty as I can:
both in Creation *AND* Violent Aftermaths.

Spend your life telling stories to folks,
and you start to believe a Lie.
That each story arc shall denoument,
before a character is allowed to Die.

I believed the myths we told ourselves:
used this to ignore every single sign.
And before I said what needed to be said,
the stroke cut out his mind.

You get one last conversation.
With everyone you know.
My last one with him I gave rejection,
and am now reaping what I sowed.