A Hero Might Grieved

Where do the birds of the nest reside,

In which cluster does my eye seek?

I am in the blind side of my being,

On a journey where roads are rough and bleak.

My song echoes an absent god's name, 

Bringing joy to my dear heart.

Each day I'm left in a dilemma, craving a pillar to relent

My nights are but half the norm, while days become quests that zoom into years.

Amidst this chase, it is the winds that soothe my weariness.

Like an ambush, in the fantasy of reality, where all are shadows.

There I find, crippling to the wounds bore me.

Hail the grasp of grief, weakling I subject to thou terror.

Nothing, absolutely nothing is worth a chase.

The day new, backwards trolls 

In slumber is but arise of hopes which dew of day quenches

Between the pillow untidy I wonder within a mind of thoughts unkept.