Life became as free as this
lighter than any feather I felt
softer than the remnants I tell
and every memory is a tale
availed to pass through the winds
into the vast of the forgotten puddle
and the nights falls into its place
mystified within it own paddles
a silence stiffened by stilled steel
at a sacrifice of blood and freedom
and every sun is not like the other
amber sheen, tampered sheets
such an even sleek of an edgy course
march on, run on, hum on
at the chase of inescapable nemesis