Laid to Rest

A tiresome warrior, has finally returned home, unsure

Of how to live outside, of constant deafening chaos,

He softly ventures, through the shrouded solace

With his trusted chaos companion, sheathed at his side,

Gripped, with an unabandoned fury, and haunting paranoia,

There are enemies, all around, in the whistling trees

And the rustling fallen debris, slowly sinking into the dirt,

The horrified soldier, in sight, is the besieging eagle,

Ever watchful, of the cascading embers, dancing

Between the branches, carrying, the snug noose,

Tightly gripping the necks, of all those, lost to battle,

Drumming louder, in the abounding rippling wind

That carries, the ghostly whispers of stranded soldiers,

Blood, burned into his senses, seeing it blanket

The calm solitude of his surroundings, stained,

He slinks down, closer to inferno, trying to distinguish

The subtle shrieks, that are so uncomfortably familiar,

Resounding throughout the petrichor, a place of ease,

Is torturous, all he can envision, is the death soaked battleground

That he crawled through, for he’s still there, crawling,

Or at least, his mind is, entrapped by the chaos,

Pounding steel agaisnt steel, dauntingly reverberating,

Bringing him down to his knees, a moment running parallel,

Explosions of birds chirping, and red sunlight sprays,

He lays, in the fragments, of loose branches, and shrapnel leaves,

He has never vacated the field, on which so many perished

By the mighty swing, of his notched battleaxe,

After all he has done, he slowly slips into darkness alone

In the calming caress of nature, while every ounce of misery

He dealt, is plunged into him, unable to withstand the agony,

Nature notices his torment, bestows pity upon the suffering,

Grows its roots, into a concentration, of sweet embrace,

His pulse steadies a bit, his sight clears from the shadows,

And can finally see, the pleasant tranquil brushstrokes,

Everything is composed, as he feels it all dissolve,

He shuts his eyes, and becomes nature, forever dormant.

Visited

I lay my head down, eager to drift into a somber huddle,

But I feel an outstretched, bleak reach invading

My chest, sunken in, cracking the cage around the castle,

As silence stands, defenseless against the owl’s screech

I shut my eyes, and try to halt the vigorous spinning

Inside my head, as flashes of probability, is projected

Onto the backs of my eyelids, who is this visiting,

A touch, familiar, enlarges the drumbeat’s echo,

While I can’t distinguish, this perplexing occurrence,

I know it’s desire, its prelude to the awaited for cessation,

An evident resident, in the eerie hours of unrest,

How many nights, does this being visit my side of the bed

To watch me tremble, knowing of its ominous presence,

Even then, I have sleep paralysis from an absent dread

That surfaces, from its deep growl, and slowly ascends

Over me, gaining a glimpse, into my palpable panic,

Rapid, boisterous breathing and a feverish sweat,

Happens within a tick of an old, dried up clock,

Forgotten to be wound up, and given a entryway

For those that time, gives no pardon.