Warm, sultry dusk

Mist forms o’er reflective lake

Whisper of juniper ascending.

Sun a memory, Moon yet hidden

Fireflies, tiny stars twinkle and glow

Their dance mirrored cross silent waters.

I sit upon roughhewn throne

Whilst thought does storm and rage

Defiance my sword, denial my shield

I give battle to that which assails me.

What is this challenge so potent in manner,

That I fear my very being weaken,

My spirit doth seek release?

Do I harden myself to mystery,

Or surrender, accepting what may be

Even if it be your love?