Mortally wounded
Coughing laboriously
Between inhales and exhales
Of what's left, of his soul.

He, The Knight
Of this abandon castle
Left in ruins
Tries to compose himself.

Long enough
To scribe
His inner most Thoughts
On this night.

Winds howling
Through shattered windows
Of tint, once colorfully
Expressing, Out reached arms
Of an arch angel.

Rain pouring down misery
Upon him
Cold bearing winds
That brought frost
To his soul.

He sees her, he thinks
Within the darkness
Of his mind.

Praying to his creator
For the strength
To follow
His now few lines
Scribed
"I love You My Darling."

Flashes of lightning
Lit the skies
A lone plume, dry of ink
Laid upon the ground.

The lord placed
Upon his face, a smile divine
Eyes opened, glazed
Staring far away
Into the infinity's edge
Of his true love.

By: William Bonilla
5/07/04