Armour’s gone, yet I still feel protected
Though this time not by any cold steel,
But by something that is different -
Its color, warmth; the feeling, iridescence.
It lets me see clouds change through time,
And if that’s too slow for me, a plane passes.
It shows me where my wounds are,
And the very hands that wounded them -
         the words,
         the thoughts,                          
         the self.
It sets me a conversation with peace,
A dialogue with the keeper of time and space -
Where they hear my plea,
Change me. Make me better!
To which Fate smirks -
Oh? But that’s what you’ve been doing all along.