Hero Poem by Brian Routh

I dream't that
I was in body
flowing coolly
through the shoddy
streets of shame
and vagrancy
with a name of luck
and poignancy.

If life is death
and death is life
getting old
is getting bold
and youth is a burst
a flash a thirst

that is quickly quenched
and in temporal
sweetness drenched

there were hills
to climb
and pills
sublime

eternity a game
love a frame

the art of suffering
turned on and off
at responsibility
I would scoff

to die in glory
with fame
and story

to be a hero for the
world to follow
and now I see that
all is hollow

the unfading light
within my soul
burns forever bright
and makes me whole

there is no fame
there is no name
there is no game

the pain of life is real
to be a hero
is to be alive
and to feel