Life complicates sometimes the steps of a traveller
Beckoning the name of the lone soldier
Who fights in fear and hope that
the experience completes a depleted soul
who holds... the shoulder that slouch to reality
and raises the head that hangs to the floor, catches
the tear that boils on sun cracked soil
and patches the wheel that punctures on
a ride of turmoil
Who is the lone soldier?
Is it the feet that blisters on careless tracks
and suffers timid minds to lies and
... scorn?
The child without dreams still buries its head in soft feathers?
The criminal attempting to fill the hollow with bodies and bid his soul free?
The glamour and glee of a homeless vagrant?
Or is it the poet that writes without impulse
But reads to ignite the inevitable
As wings spread to fly....
the social instinct kicks in
Win the fight with heart and might
For.....the thought alone thaws....the cold
And animate the reflection that serves two fold
Who is the lone soldier now?
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