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I should probably note that my Dad is fine.
My Muse awoke after a set of disturbing dreams.
I don't mind it being linked to, if anyone wants to.
WYSiWYG.

This is a truth.


Dad
(Written by Louis D. Adkins, 7/16/2014)

Torn remnants of my father's life,
trash scattered in the wind,
a thousand cans of soups and beans,
and moon-pie wrappers split at seams,
the front door to the old house screams,
as he stares, alone, into his hell..
on Earth, alone and but forgotten, save his parents love.

The signs of pets and little things, attempts to mend reality,
to seek out shelter 'gainst the storm of arrows red with blood.

For Times best archers loosed these shots,
the volleys fall and are forgot,
the ammunition, scattered lot,
each single one, a moment hot,
with tears and breath,
and wrong turns wrought
to strive and fail, again.

Each moment much like litter, found,
inside his head, as they rain down,
and find their mark, the circle dark,
upon the hend, a bleeding mound.

For to secure the hearts necess*,
He thought he walked the way,
Alone, so as to not disturb,
the great body of what he'd serve,
not understanding how he'd gotten,
stranded by the wind and rock,
his feet betrayed him, tired and stock,
followed every order, how dare they?

When lightning came and stole his breath,
he called out loudly, denying death,
but to his shock, they all were deaf,
except his parents, barely came.

They took him to the stream of strife,
it's delta sterile, in name of life,
and silent hands cut flesh with knife,
righting some of wrong.

And finally did he see now,
that path he took, so long ago,
the one that looked like it would help,
left him to nearly die, alone.

And in his heart did he now feel,
the poisoned space around him, filled,
almost to height of his own head,
drowning in himself, they said.

He realized the truth, you see, and seized the lightnings curse.
He wielded flash and pain to head and heart, oh, heart, t'would burst.
In looking back, he saw his path, that led into the rain,
deciding to, if life would bid, to walk a different plain.
For now he knew, each step he took, in trying to protect, insure,
left desolate, the things he loved, removed the most important core,
He knew, now, what Love meant. He knew he wanted more.

Time, to bend the arrow-head, and blunt the razor edge,
Time remade for him; to be alone, no more!
Time to smile, and hug, and laugh, and remove every wedge,
For nothing stops the arrow's fall,
but now he knows that his close call,
was not with death alone, but with an unattended grave,

And slightly odd relief of knowing that he's finally gone,
shall be replaced with sad, soft smiles, and memories that are drawn,
those blood-stained arrows may not cease, but now he knows, he kens**,
that in the end, let Time be sweet, if bitter, in its ends.


*necess: That which is necessary
**kens: To know something, to understand. "You ken?" = "You understand?"
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