in the dwelling of misinterpreted dreams.
Stands the Cavalier ready for a misspoken word on which to strike
it is he who surrenders to uniformity that is lost for wisdoms sake
His mind speaks;
“Be not the aggressor in transgressions of heart
for kingdoms are won and lost on promises etched in balsa”
Flimsy is the spirit within
taking only what is salvaged from used carcasses
The hunter, who prepares with idle ruminations,
dulls the arrow piercing only shallow intentions.
In this very thought hangs his understanding.
Twice beaten, once fallen he shadows existence
Never to always fail,
seems like it makes sense in a twisted sort of way.
Like his actions of taking axe to wood for weapons sake
Cause and effect
The tree has fallen on new growth,
stunting all that lies beneath and before it
This too is temporary as vines strangle whats left of this giant.
Everything survives long enough to give way to the next.
That is the point isn’t it.
in so much as nature is real and constant