And under the sanguine,
Massive
corpse of sin and vice,
Surrounded
by the broiling rubble,
Smoke,
and sulfur,
There
was found no gold, no treasure.
There
was no princess in the tower
Nor
glory in heaven.
The
village saw no more security,
And the
wolves continued to feast
On the
shepherd’s herd.
Merely there
was the toxic blood
Of the
slain beast
Staining
the once immaculate armor
Of an
exhausted, charred
Fool.
***
(Cuenca, Ecuador -- November, 2018)
As I started to get enthused about having some time to dedicate myself to my writing, this poem came to me as a sort of warning to myself. "Be careful of what you wish for." Sometimes you get so focused on winning some prize just for the sake of winning that you realize later that you never cared about the prize.
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