To My Younger Self:

Enjoy the silences;
the waiting,
slow words.

Not having anything to do;
the leashed phone,
the unknown.

Bruises, cuts and wounds;
the bitter cold,
the searching soul.

The night without street lights;
uncivilized sights,
sunlit rooms.

Enjoy the world
as it was meant to be;
sober, subtle and unexplored,
because in the end
it will turn on you;
bind you in rope,
flood your eyes, your ears,
and leave you with no place
                        to call home.

The Great Game

The world breathes a strong wind of something fierce
but will pause for swords drawn on the field
weapons desperate to plunge pummel and pierce
to find some foe and through violence have them yield
young souls made to retreat behind their shields
as if they wish to live another day
but such defenses will find their fate sealed
behind doors that cannot save them from the fray
for defense is the way of the prey.
There the aggressor will find victory
as long as they keep the others at bay
The battlefield is no place for chivalry
Chivalry is an intimate exchange
found where old stories are so arranged.

Every soldier who enters the fight
dreams of peace maintained and honor fought for
but rarely thinks of how such fires ignite
or how peace and honor could be found in war.
They believe in points and will settle the score
for king, for country, or for distant lands
all things that have been fought for long before
all things that are forever changing hands,
as stable as the desert’s windswept sands
and as formless as a cloudy night sky
nothing ever as grand as what was planned.
Though such vague ideals have led many to die
there is empathy deep within their fall
for we are all just children grown tall.