Once I tasted vile strangulation, when
'round my throat a silken serpent crept.
Raptured blood in trapped encapsulation
transfigured notions grand to those inept.
Asphyxiation's patron bade me sprawling
upon petrifying vale, body swashed.
A pestilence born of a false calling,
a mission ineffectual and gauche.
Laid down my sword and shield to the invader,
and in my suffering, found victory.
New purpose birthed from what should be a nadir:
To rouse my mind from paltry piety.
Then images, they shimmered into vision,
like shrinking violet vespers of a dream.
Mind and conscience coursing for collision,
gelled into one coherent stream.
Now I wear same garment as a badge,
myself reclaiming purpose to proceed.
A flight from villains after balm I snatch;
new savior quenching old savior's needs.
* * *
Another piece from the bad old days, can't come up with a better title than this, which is depressing.
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