An Old Man Ponders
An ancient warrior recalls a life too quickly gone by
Ruminations stir in the reflection pool of his mind’s eye
Old age has overtaken him quietly and unannounced
He is keenly aware of what the psalmist pronounced
“What man is he that liveth and shall not see death?
Can he deliver his soul from the hand of the grave?”
Where is the glorious death he forlornly pleas?
Why must he die on some shameful sickbed he grieves?
The fire is still there, reflected in the glint of his eye
The raging furnace still smolders in the cast of the die
The shadows gather! Where is that shinning ray?
That will illuminate that dark valley and ominous fade
I abide the time in an aura of ethereal light
Awaiting the certainty of my preordained plight
This transient life is but a synapse in a timeless sea
A connection between what was and what will be
The incubus awaits with its harrowing thirst
I am the warrior and will face mankind’s certain curse
For in this twilight I see that dark forest
With its shadowy forms and trebling chorus
For there is a path in there tried and true
That is used by all who doth pass there anew
Often well-traveled and oft well used
To cross that frightful ground, to gain a better view