[Suzerain of Sheol]

I assumed they were dead, but what do I know? :p

Anyway, for me, I still keep the first poem I ever wrote in my "Poems I like" folder, but the next... 30 or so are all very firmly in "Poems I Don't Like" awaiting cannibalization whenever I see fit.

I guess I can include it here. It's certainly not my favorite, but I don't hate it. It's a bit more direct than I usually am, though, and seems a bit... grasping. Pretentious, maybe? Hedging cliche? I don't know.

Flight

There is solace in forgetting.
A lost man's comfort in wandering.
The balm of the mad,
Apathy and indifference.
Armors of the mind;
Jailers of the heart.

The hoary elder breathes his last,
And remembers nothing,
A lifetime of summers lost to the living,
The burden of winters lifted from him.

The widow burns the house of her memory
And casts the ashes to a heedless wind.

The children run in blindness,
Fleeing the specter on the horizon,
Embracing the ephemeral.

The unborn dream in darkness
And know eternal life.