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?