As Ever Like the Sun & Moon at War

7- ☼☼ ☼ ☼☼

Our Pilgrim wakes the morning next within

his swaying hammock, shiv'ring with the chill

before the dawn and curling tighter up

until recalling what he dreamt last night,

whereat he spins out from his swinging bed

and falls to hands and knees ere springing up

to run toward the house to know for sure

it was a dream and not his counterpart,

for th'awful thing that weighs his memory

this morning mustn't be the truth or else. . .                10

or else. . . he dothn't know what he would do.

He comes upon the stoop and steadies hands

that shake from more than just the morning cold

before he grasps the knob and swings the door

to enter th'house, and once inside he thinks

to call for Spouse for but a moment ere

deciding that perhaps the babe's asleep

and maybe it'd be best if simply he

did search for her himself instead of that.

He starts to climb the stairs, but as he goes                20

the weight of mem'ry grows yet heavier,

as with the passing minutes it becomes

more difficult for him denying their

veracity as he should wish to do.

At halfway up the stairs he comes to stop

and can't a muscle move until he calms

his racing heart with thoughts of Progeny

whom he and Spouse will care for, raise and love,

and all the things they'll introduce him to.

He takes another step upon the stairs;                30

and all the people in his life he'll touch.

He plants his foot to push another down;

and all the lessons they'll impart on him.

He mounts another under shaking knees;

and all th'experiences he'll receive;

and all the love he'll have for humankind;

and all the mirth that ever he'll deserve—

the legacy they leave upon this world.

Our Pilgrim now ascends the rest of them

and makes toward the bedroom wherein he                40

last saw his Spouse and son before he left,

and with his blacken'd hand he lightly raps

upon the door, with horror taking hold

at spying Sol in white upon his palm.