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When dusk dissolves the last shreds of light,
Do heroes lay awake at night?
Or do they dream, brilliant days to come-
With a winning smile, good deeds all done?
Perhaps defeat creeps with them to bed,
As a rusty nail in the back of their head.
Maybe all they wish at night,
Is for dawn to kill their dreamless fright.
Mayhap they do not wish at all,
As full moons unwind and fate befalls.
For surely all taste Fate's stale breath-
No might of man may outlast Death.
All men, no doubt, serve God's demand,
And are wrung like wet socks into Life's thirsty hands.
Wes Thompson
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Wes Thompson
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