once stood a great warrior

of malice and pride

with no battle too bloody

for his hungering eyes 

his blade, sharp and stained

stood tall at his side

left in its wake

only dead men would lie

then, in the distance 

that red, setting sun

gave a glimpse to the man

of the deeds he had done

the crimson and black

was all he could see

he saw not the...

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He waits

unlike most

and searches

through the muck

through the dirt and the dust,

the nails and worms

He waits 

for a glimpse of success

a meal for his minutes spent

on the water’s edge

a reward

for his tireless toil

He waits

as his bucket fills

alongside his hope

then empties

leaving his spirits all the same

For his catch does not ...

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