Where once my warrior soul reigned
Now I find it sadly lacking
Though it carried twice its weight in pain
Now the art is all that matters
I fall in raging winds
But never find my footing
And if this night is to end
First it must begin.
There is only room for understanding,
So I, tightly tethered to my essence
Find I am calmed
By poetry’s presence
No longer wilting
Words become my water
No longer melting
Nor walking meat to the slaughter
I begin with my father
And end with my daughter
In her eyes infinity
I see hope for eternity
But she is just a seedling
Formless fiction of my mind
Changing with my seasons
In angles I still hope to find
Allows these withered roots to grow again
******* greedily at the soil.
Hope helps me thrive, my friend
And gives me reason to toil

-Joshua Amos Graff 2011