Within there plays a grossly misinterpreted dream.
It is I who knows not the hour of my own deterrent.
It is I who knows only the result.

Winter brings the setting sun
to set upon the dreams that mattered.
Far too long is patience purpose.

Unraveled, and torn away,
sliver by sliver, one at a time,
it is the colorless that now lingers.

And where is she that shined perfectly upon my face?
Blinded away for the haggard beaten eyes she sees in me.
Pushed unto the ground by my own mysterious disease.

That which I am she becomes,
and that which I am not is taken from her.
If I be hallowed and righteous, she too is uplifted.
If I be base, lowered, and confused, her chains return.

No cause for alarm or alert,
it has always been so.
For I am the man in the woods who heard the tree fall,
and the one for whom is still responsible.

The mystery of my mystery is not without heart and soul.
Indeed it is at the very core of what man is.
Truly it is in our very nature to uncover the roots.

And this is the grapple that all men must bare in their chest.
To know each and every enemy of our love we have laid waste,
To know that ALL her challenges we have met,
To know that anyone for whom distresses, the bell will toll.
To know that ourselves we have climbed, and conquered, and achieved.

And then to know that at the last, it is us who becomes the dragon.
For what we lost along the way, was taken from her by others.
What we sacrificed to continue our journey, was the map back.
What we have left to offer, in our hands, by the demands of our lives,
are the very things that once again chain her into herself.

For so much was given throughout the years,
that the thirst was tremendous.
War is never fair, it is only about survival.

Then when standing in shining light, our glory does shine, She sees.
but when the sun sets, our shadow does appear, she sees.
And we are known to be men.

Flawed, challenged, hunted, scorned, 100 reasons to bleat as sheep.
Though we haven’t and shall not, for our shadow does cast a spell.

Even so our heart is as it was.

Behold this is woman, in whom we have loved forever and more.
Behold this is woman, that did give cause for life in us to be.
Behold this is woman, in that we wait for trust and truth.
Behold this is woman, that did show herself upon the earth.
Behold this is woman, who called to us from the dungeons.
Behold this is woman, helper to me do I help now from her imprisonment.

As men we know our scars are proof,
that life has not left our feet.
As men we know our wounds are evidence,
that all our enemies fell.

Yet in the dimness of shadow, these very things
Can bring doubt to our eternity.
For in our bodies, is evidence too,
that we can be scarred, and wounded.

He who stands in primness and proper,
is not a man among other men.
Glory he has sought, but hell he has feared.
Spoils he does gather, but a coward’s heart is within him.

I for one, still stand, and stand on.
Ragged, marred, misguided, mislead, beaten, cheated and lied to.
Yet nothing did stop my cause to break the dungeon doors.
Nor yet shall it ever be, when my eyes see the placement of my foot,
that I flee from the spirit who is made clear before me.

Hell is not a place to be feared,
when its voice is always the same.
Hopelessness is not an end to faith,
when it has exposed its thin reality.

No shadow of mine will stun my existence.
It lays low upon the ground,
When I stand upon my feet.

And in knowning the errand of life,
that foretells lackluster moments of melting snow,
When dirt and grime and filth surround us,
it will still be I who continues the journey.

As a man of War,
who has achieved his objective,
yet still must he then return home.

As with all men,
who have freed their lover from her captors.
Must he still lead her out,
if even dragging her by our handmade stretcher.

Shall it be War until the very end?
Rest when you can,
make peace when you can,
Eat and rejoince whenever you can.

Until such time as you both have healed,
and feel the rising sun again.
It will be your only company to know,
that your works are not in vain,
if only for a smile, and a blissful moment of unity.

For in such times, WE, together know our fate,
as Knight and Maiden. Returning Home.

Ryan o0o