He sits skulking in the shade
the home the Winged Horse has made
in this secluded meadow
where He drowns in His sorrows
when asked why He weeps so much
“I have lost the people’s touch.
None know of My sacrifice,
when I nearly gave My life,
and so should have been My fate,
but I failed and was too late.”
with these worlds He humbly sighed
and closed His large gentle eyes
the warrior that we knew
had died that day with the few
The next poem in the series coming Feb 8. From the poetry collection Pariah Bound: The Lonesome Poetry.
James Pack 