Black is the Knight after the storm,
the tumultuous tide swallowed him and now
he's alone.
Rivers, seas and rains all collect in the Heavens, but the waves have paused. No aggression.
Deep lunges in the sand, he makes his way to optimistic land.
His shell is bruised but his soul, soothed. The squall has cleansed him, he needed clarity
from his life filled with misery, jealousy and tyranny.
He takes off his armor as he walks further, over the shingle
the stones, the mud and the grass, in the distance the clouds gently crash like a cymbal.
The air is pure, damp and refreshing,
he falls bare to the earth.
Caressing and stretching.
Mind wide open although he's been tested.
No more guessing, he's his own possession.
