Fatal blow

 

Down where The Land yields to The Sea

As the edge of an offered blade,

A boundless ocean flows harnessed yet free

Through trenches millennia made.

 

At The pool of my blood I’m cut to the bone

Fractured cliffs rise up to defend,

My heart echoes through chambers forever alone

With a pulse that no steel could end

 

Love is The Sword that rusts in the tide

Thrust too deep to ever withdraw,

Like the myth of a King who drew it but once

To find himself ever at war

 


© Wolfgar 2019

4 thoughts on “Fatal blow

  1. David, since you have asked the question, and I get to choose, I would say that the “love” bestowed here is consciousness. Now that certainly is a love you can’t survive. And given that this poem is placed at the shore, metaphorically a place of transition from one state to another, mortality comes into play – like the Myth of a King – stellar dismount. D

    Liked by 1 person

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