I am more antique Roman than Dane
And again, more worn Celt in my veins than empire.
Ever grasping my fingers skew the sands of time.
Driving towards majesty and light.
I close my eyes and feel frigid rain
Smell sulfur and iron, the tang tainting fire.
Burns upon scars, painful clenching of weathered hands
The musical roar and clash of life
My heart beats, changing the blurry game.
You hit the curve, but I will slide far past the mire
While taking the line, seeming a gladiator
In a steel and rubber chariot.
 BlueKalis · Sat Dec 01, 2007 @ 03:35am · 0 Comments |
