Victory

Blade and pen switch hands once more.

Hope, herself, is struggling sore.

I have lost hold of the dream in my hands.

Drifting on seas and so far from shore,

Why should I try? There is naught at my core.

With pen warring, I write of aches deep,

All of my Me my dreams ever keep.

While ocean waves drench me through,

I keep swimming, wishing for sleep.

A deadly wish.  Naught but rest I'd reap.

Blade sleeping, muscles unfeeling

Desirous that one limb is healing,

Now it hangs down at my heaving side.

I tried.  I tried.  All of my psyche now reeling

Away from my soul, tenacity peeling,

All the while, pen ready, I fight.

Morning, mid-morning, noon, afternoon, night.

Enemy weapons threaten my body

I know what is wrong. I know what is right.

How much longer till I have no more light?

At times, Serenity gets me to stand.

Often, Beauty will gently command.

Their words galvanize the warrior within.

Whether I ever again see solid land,

For such wondrous kindness I never have planned.

For Grace, for Compassion, for Sweet Charity,

For each radiant angel helping me see,

For Balm Personified, I forgot how to quit.

Somehow their presence again makes me free.

I re-engage in the war around me.

If these visions are all real and true,

I know my endurance will never be through

But be they but wishes inside my mind

If they are but daydreams that I once knew,
Tis dreams keep me as naught else will do.
I'll believe in my dreams,
And victory, too.

Adam Scott Campbell