Scorched earth at my back,
Burned by the pursuit of the dream,
Extends forever
As I gaze into the future,
Seeing only the past.
With desecration behind me
And the dream far off,
I am marooned in the moment
Which slowly decays.
I have left myself
Without the choice of the retreat,
Alone, surrounded
By my own ruined battlefield.
The citadel glows
Distant in the thronging night-time,
And the march begins
And leaves in its wake
The death of a choice
Which can never be.
Published on October 19, 2012 14:02