O’ famous awakening

Forever rid of these shackles that bind

Fettered no more to rote and unreason

Forever rid of these fixations constant

Eating at my mind and agonizing

A hundredfold

Fear each preceding step might be the penultimate

By bullet drawn or wire tripped

Or fire from Above

To escape the capricious Lachesis—drawer of lots

Measuring the thread’s of Life

Singling thee . . . from the camouflage masses

To finally be . . . Homeward Bound

With a joy that soars higher than the highest plane

Damaged not physically

But each second of 395

a mumbo-jumbo of day- and night-mares alike

Haunting the soul

But soon to be forsaken

So one may put behind . . .

Whatever thing

You are evermore cursed

To remember