The Burning Ground
My feet firmly planted below me. My past
Behind me, slowly becoming less real.
And before me, lies a future
A Land I want to enter, but the gate is closed.
So here I stand, My path bright coal- waiting.
My eyes looking for someone
Or something to blame, turn inward.
"You must wait" stubborn child voice,
Intones, inside. "Do not choose,
That which is easy. Do not choose
What comes freely. Do not choose
Sure victory. They have never brought you joy."
"But have they brought pain?"
I shouted back inside smoldering.
"Without great risk there can be no great gain.
Fight for this, wait for the moment,
Strike when sure...the gate will open."
A surge of power engulfs me, then escapes
Like spent air. "But I have fought for nothing...
I am tired of nothing." "Then let this path be
Your burning ground." So I stand at the gate,
Man turned phoenix, the touch of fire,
Rebirth in flames, nothing will be the same.
Copyright © Phillip Ortman | Year Posted 2007
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