Unmasked
The spirits' face is a black hole
Swallowing the celestial beauty
Of the stars.
Caged
The sentinel is crouched
Subsumed in seething pain
Not pain but anger of being guiltless
Yet guilty for being in jail.
The cell
No crime equals its greasy grey walls
Thickly dark with no grills for light
Till the eyes, sore, feel pain no more.
The sentinel
Was once a brother
Used to sit by my feet
But wandered away,
Till err passed his way.
Who is to blame
When the mind is aflight
And discretion is abandoned
For valor?
