Reflections On The Journey

I gaze in wonder
at the reflection
the journey etched
in black turned gray

I crashed through life
more instinct than inspiration
surprised to rise again
from each disaster
stunned at my good fortune

I’ve lived among
But never with
Each gaggle and its myths

Instead I’ve learned the dialects
Of their deceptions
And wore a patchwork cloak
of myths of my own creation

A poet warrior who
masquerades as a minstrel
Alone in any gathering
Sharing tales not made for children
Where heroes weep and mourn
the dragons they have slain.