Every day of my life,

so far,

I have risen.

The day

calls my name,

drags me from my slumber.

No hope,

no regret,

just an empty sorrow;

and rage,

enough to stoke the fires

once again.


I climb up,

into the cool, morning air.

Before the world wakes,

I am stalking,


like the wolf pack lopes along.

The day is prey,

and the night is home.


My hands hurt

from holding on.

Broken from the fight,

but there is some strength

left in them yet,

and my new wounds heal.



that comes with the dawn

has a cost.

What comes in darkness,

only costs your soul.

There are no magic words

to heal the heart,

only the passage of the Sun,

and fresh turned earth.



greets me in the morning.

This side of the dirt

certainly, has its perks.

Clean air,

and in a moment,

I am gone,

before the sun can come

and stake me to the ground.


Time is a shackle,

and freedom is found

in between the atoms

that bond the steel,

and in between the moments

that make our lives.

See me once,

and I am gone,

as if I were never there.


HG – 2019


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