Souvenir

An old battle woke me up.

Like a lost child, it begins

to seek the forgotten paths

of triumph and time.

At the threshold of dawn

I rise with healed wings,

remembering how I fought

with a heart-unarmored.

Evacuate

I wither away,

in the distant arms

of a disappearing dusk.

Death! How shall I find you?

For life is cold.
And eternity,

is an inert wound

that never heals.