In these early hours hone well your edge, your muscles flex against the privations of the latter day hex.
Ensorcelled masses preach; to wounded souls the pastors teach the path of self neglect.
In the early watch light fierce the torch, wear a mask, that does not corrode, against the illusion of the less-taken road.
Ensorcelled masses preach; to wounded souls the pastors teach the path of self-denial.
Before the day pray not for dawn, fear the light that with hate condones the small compassion of a warm night.
Back to Poems