(20 minute poetry)

In shards of crimson
when hell fire and brimstone
burnt the touch of man.

I travel as I am
unspoilt by tragedy.

Look at me
does it worry you
that I got through and
left my woes behind?

It's Christmas let's be kind,
break the habit of a lifetime
and
find that decency,
we could be King for
one day.

Nail your colours to the door
not to the cross.

Heroes come
and heroes know
the time will come
and they must go

I'm already there
felt the heat on bare skin
burnt the bridges and
dove on in

to swim.

The tide will take me
remake me
in the image of a Moon.

Anyway
crimson's too high a price to pay.

Tuesday and it flickers on
one more hill to climb?
descend?
and does it all depend on how
we look on it?