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The Rage

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I'll be the darkness in the brightest hour
And I'll make Hades wait.
Not nameless mass in that space
Nor a faceless name two pages short of the classifieds.
I embrace she who wields the scythe
But my life is by my blade.
For a vagabond heeds no master;
In the like I shall rage.
Unsheathed,
While Old Time patiently awaits the end of my fury.

Comments (3)

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Nicely worded and felt, being or own master and to live life by our rules alone, it's what bring us writers here to this window and binds us as commorades in arms. I also love the way you use the poetic word unsheathed with rage. Nice

Vangoman
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much appreciated

michaelmiller.ic
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I am glad I 'found' this today and read it. Love the dichotomy of patient time with unsheathed rage.

grunfruaorshell
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