Sunday, July 12, 2009

I am the lion.

The roar rises in me

Mostly when I am alone

And let it happen-

No, let myself feel it

For when is it not happening?

When I am good? Quiet?

When I am the child?

Nope, neither, none.

For no one roars like the child,

And no one fears like the man.

Now, I know fear because I know death and the end of things

And now I know the lion

As the lion would finally know himself

In the mirror

And say that

You, too, Fearsome Thing, must die.

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