Filled my soul with a myriad of flashbacks,

For I saw a soft mornings mist amidst weeping pines

drifting forth in sweet essence of honeysuckle vines.

With my eyes closed tight to the approaching light

I watched in silence now, as the deer of the field bow in singular grace,

As this, the rising mornings sun I did turn to finally face.

Such simple things I see, in these woods of mine,

All forth reaching and sweeping me back to more delicate and softer times.

A time back then, a time long ago, a time back when the entire world I wanted to know.

However now as I lean back on these rusty old tracks, all without a solitary care

 I trace with my finger across the brilliant dawning sky

and watch a gathering of crows, as they sail magically through the air.

I can hear it as plain as the newness of the day, a morning’s song now being sung,

And it was then that I realized in my heart, that all is well

and victory was really mine, and that I had truly won.

For empty was this vessel, and shallow was myself,

For thinking and believing, that life was where misery and I dwelt.

Oh Yes…victory is mine.