Author Information
Second Wind
It was in your last vivid
success on paper that I
realized why my fingers
have been bleeding
They are sore and cold,
and they clench tightly to
the fact that this fascade
is far from over
I am balancing the beam between
metaphor and truth
Which one should I give you
It has been the hardest choice to
make for the past three years
And I have failed, in my heart
I have failed, in my hands
I am tired, exhausted, and
greatful for that mark in
which you left
It was in utmost respect and dignity
And we have left it as is for a very long
time
When I say I carry it in my veins, it
is no lie
No falsity
No dramatization my friend
I carry it with me
And for the life of me, I do not
know why I cannot just let it live and
go with that wind that you speak so
knowingly of
A short, quick beheading to the revolutions
and the sleep
But what to do with you?
I could not bury you, for I would know exactly
where you hid
And I could never let you die, in peace
