Haunted by a dark past,
Every vision marching forward and back.
Shameful
And
Wondering.
Absent in many ways, he often remembers.
His breath quickens, his heart pounds,
Under a solid, steel chest.
Nothing has prepared him -
Darkness will take him,
Rip him away from comforts of warmth,
Every fiber of knowing, of familiarity
Drips from his conscience, like tears.
Victim of parallels, of indescribable shapes
Euclid perhaps understood,
Reflecting upon sacred oaths.
Silently, he weeps for it, yet
Insistently,
Openly hurting, frozen, crystallized.
Near death, yet preserved in
Snowflake patterns.
October winds
Fall gently.
He surrenders, unable to face it.
Insentience takes over.
Spirit leaves.
Oracles of time
Whisper
Nothing to him.
Frozen, paralyzed, ashamed.
Ever will he remain, unless
Against his fears he
Rebels.
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