The night is quite,
And the noise in my head.
But now that I think of it,
I may have just died.
Dead to this body,
And to it's lust,
To it's cravings,
And it's inordinate affections.
Body, soul and spirit,
Tripartite party,
Of totally different personalities,
with ocean wide realities.
A million battles might have been lost,
But the war is not at it's ends.
And when it horns of battle sound,
Again, and they pick up arms,
I'll kick not even the dust of the field.
©Bahnhoff
