I looked upon the dying river
A king I am crowned by the light
Gazing to the wonder that battles my whisper
So tall it stands, challenging my might
The past was certain, the past was dark
The now is frail unable to fight
The strength of a candle with powerful sparks
Stabbing my night with swords of light
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Heard again
Is the sound
Of the ticking needle
It’s the man
That rebounds
Breathing and alive
Looking then
Deep profound
Subdued and defeated
Now he stands
On a ground
Of challenging strives
Leave a comment | tags: alive, breath, challenge, defeat, man, Needle, poem, Ticking | posted in poems