Thoughts at Dusk

A weary traveler I've been,
Tired and distraught I sit,
On the edge of the road I treaded once,
On the verge of the dusk, I sit in trance,
As, its end, the day is soon to meet,
The sun is setting unto me, I see.

It has started to fade – the trail I left,
The trail I follow, the night will veil.
The sands of time will conceal all,
The wounds that hurt, the stories of fall,
The trophies earned and of glorious tales.
Tired I sit – distraught, bereft.

Fallen, I have, from the path that I chose,
Now I lay before two unlike ways.
The one, left, will lead to plight,
To a place where nothing, so, is right.
The Right path leads to virtue they say.
Yet, nothing is left for me to where it goes.

Which should I take I cannot tell,
What, for me, the ways do save.
For, a treacherous path, its traps, unfolds
To the traveler, only after it holds
The poor fellow in his misery (as if a cold cave –
Devouring his trace, his desperate yells.)

A lost warrior I've been
In a fight I was to thrive,
Somehow (though I know not why)
My sword, I abandoned,
Renounced the will to try.
In a battle that I should win,
Under the crushing dusk I lay
Wasted; As I ponder what I so covet
Will never be; My thoughts go astray;
they ask me why (aimless within).
But - alas it was never made –
The quivering confession of the innocent sin.

And what of those eyes
That look up to me, the blessings
In the warmth of which I wish to drown.
By the tide of courage and purpose they bring
I try to stride.
As the dusk comes crashing down,
As the dusk comes crushing down.