A poem.

There was once a man,

He wasn’t just a man though,

He was a pinnacle for some,

Built upon flesh and bone,

Molded from gold cut stone,

That’s what the rumors said,

But it was his calm head.


He was strong said those from the east,

He was wise said those from the west,

Was he a man? Asked those from the south,

He was more than a man, answered those from the north.

His mother said he was a filial son,

His brother said he was brighter than the sun,

His wife said he was golden like the moon,

His children said he was a great father and that was true.


He was a scholar,

He was a writer,

He was better off being a Spartan,

For he had his shield and sword,

And the wrath of a thousand storms.


But for every great man,

There is an end,

The curtains close,

The lights dim,

The stage is left,

The man is no longer there,

His footsteps no longer echo in the stairs,

Joy is lost as his soul ascends,

To a place where he can mend.


For the mind is strong but the body is weak,

He is silenced and gone,

Leaving behind his legendary song,

Written at dusk before dawn,

By his child, a little spawn.


Love isn’t lost,

He isn’t lost,

She isn’t lost,

He will be remembered,

For legends never die,

And his song…cannot be denied.



Wanna Be Sage.

Words have always been my safe haven.


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