Dream-Ache

In one hand, a beautiful golden pen.
In the other, a heart ne'er able to dry.
Only time knows exactly when
Said heart will cease to try.

In one pen, an ink to make one free.
In one heart, the blood to gain sight.
Only One Omniscient sees
How two learned, as one, to fight.

In one drop of ink carefully used,
Perhaps one warrior saved,
Sparing writer the death
For which one drop of blood he gave.

By one particle of a mind at peace
Writer writes raw, written word
Wishing for white, soothing fleece
Of which he's only heard.

Reclining on this rocky shore,
Sea foam all around,
Shivering... pained... thoughts stored,
Languishing on the ground.

Sea foam laps at shoulders.
Now neck, now chin not dry.
Writer dreams as he gets colder,
Knowing not the Why.

Floating now in salted,
Bluest water out to sea,
Writer-warrior does not feel
Arms bearing him free.

Laid in wheeled chariot,
Pushed to carriage side,
He knows not at all
Where his body lies.

In cold, watery grave?
In a bed of a kindly inn?
Floating o'er the wave?
Or a shrieking carriage, within?

Wither shall carriage bear him?
Upon which isle shall he land?
When he finds wave does not hold him,
Will he have the strength to stand?

Ache to be free, pained to be done,
Wanting and wishing the battle won,
Warrior-writer has no path
To find a warming sun.

Writer must needs write it:
The happenings of his war.
Warrior must needs fight it
However oft he is torn.

Swim the oceans, wield the sword
However long war lasts.
Writer-warrior will write and fight
Until the pain is past.

"His vitals are all stable.
I think he will be fine.
Make sure you check every fifteen.
No near-deaths, this time..."

Adam Scott Campbell