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Poem by Ishmael 7/18/17

Another horizon before me,

Same enemy as before,

Past battles fought, won or lost…

Old now, weary, shall I engage or not…

Long time ago, it would have been a sure kill, an easy kill…

Weary, I see old bones, mine and others, mingled,

Is this a dream or real?

The horizon, the sun at my back, on good ground…

Ground still worth my effort,

But the compass seems askew…

Is it daylight or dusk?

I have lost bearing,

It feels different, this place, why?

I see the enemy clearly, have seen their death…

Is mine at hand also?

I feel old spirits, massing...

Spectators, or here to partake of my battle?

Or deliver me to my father's mansion?

To the home he started here but failed to finish mortally...

Do we continue after or rest,

In paradise or another prison?

Or drift into oblivion?

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