Author Information
Fist
90% of all he could respond to
The sun, the household scent
The familiarity of his every-day
He couldn't breath to it anymore
And through passage or through descent
One could not deny the need for fulfillment
He was only one of the many people
Who desired a little fire among his tranquility
And the one he loved watched and waited
For a new day and a new path of escape
She anticipated what he feared
And she wondered of his health
And one early day in mid-september
This normal man with his normal life
Learned how to turn his frustration
Into beautiful art
Turning feet through the dirt
Slicing atmosphere and testing gravity
Reflecting daylight through his fingers
Lone combat had never been so graceful
And he practiced
Oh, how he practiced
He forgot his Earthly chores
And his responsibilities
He had forgotten his humanity
And learned how to fly
Learning the risks and the power
While he was watched from far behind
He had lost his occupation
His money, his reputation
His house and home had been taken
And finally
The one he loved turned away.
And all that was left
Was a man
And his fists,
Forever in a fight with something only he could see.
