Within my hand I held it strong
Notwithstanding its weight prolonged
The burden carried, the weight parried
I wish I had but just some clarity
It was precious, precarious, and persuasive
My yearning for it was but invasive
Like the ring its presence grasped my mind
Was it really the type to be kind
Many have sought and called it mine
But only for a mere instance in time
Joyous contempt filled the others
Who were not blessed by Olympus’s mothers
Intangible yet it could still be held
Was it the fire which had really meld
The fortitude of its past successors
The pain incurred by its predecessors
If it’s Ares who carries, it’s very scary
Bide, the burden is deeply buried
Through thoughtful triumph will prevail
The victor who holds the true avail
by Mike V.
May 23, 2020
May 23, 2020 at 1:32 PM UTC