Nine Dragons Poet Ode

The Imagined Slight

Some shrink at trespass,
Where never stepped foot.
Some grasp at weeds,
Where there is no root.
Some fears have no substance,
But the shade of us.
Some see gain
In loss.

For them, I lament;
I weep when I see
Where, with their deeds,
Create a life of tragedy—
All their own
And all alone.
They cherish
What they reap
In a false reality.
Much like these
Paths we tread,
Built on nothing
And dreams long dead.

Alas, it was all
In your head;
And the rainfall
Was not dread—
Only rain.
And what was said
Brought no pain
Or anger or lethe.
Step back into the light
And deeply breathe in
That healing breath.
And linger not so;
For fleets time,
Where soonly comes death.

Smile upon the years left—
Spend them not in agony
Of imagined wrongs
Or errant slight.
The moon cast her shadow
Over all of night
While you sort wrong
From right.
And assure time
Better spent
Is wasted on lament
And woeful rhyme.

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