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Written In Self-Imposed Exile
That I be ambushed in early gambit
for my king was a sacrifice too great -
just a pawn in a game and I am it
plays out its capture and winless stalemate.
He not bared to his human desires nor
fruit on the essential vines thirsts alone -
and now for all my passions at my core
is a real fear of loss that I must own.
But a debt of faith is ransomed this day
and worse, a debit of endless sorrow -
a usury I must now bear and pay,
and from the heart this I’ve had to borrow.
I am a hostage to my tyrannies,
a prisoner of old hostilities.
Written: September 1995
Copyright ©
Keith D Trestrail
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