The Bell Trees and Memories

There is a stillness in the Bell Trees in Machonon
a warrior pauses to rest by the Lake of Memory,
all of his follies and victories peer back in the
glimmering glass waters, neon halo, supernova wings
and blood on hands that does not wash away, ever,
he looks at the stains on his palms, scars on limbs
and upon a heart that burns with devotion despite
all the times his prayers went unanswered, all the
brothers of ashen pinions that let him down, silence
at the lip of the liquid mirror, just pensive silver
immortals fear their reflection because infinity
drives them mad, and endless tangents create insanity
all the what-ifs, regrets, and reveries are too much
the warrior weakens, draws back from the lake, wanders
past silver fruits that chime with his sins, he can’t
linger too long, for to see your truths in clarity is
a revelation that can only last a moment, he marches on.


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