My heart is weary and the mind stained with fears.
Everlasting that old and new souls
clash on the Field of Tears.
All are crushed beneath the hooves of time.
Regardless the strength in virtue,
nor the extent of inquity,
not one will survive this mighty charge before the eye.
Thou art foolish.
To believe thine earthly image will perserve and not demolish.
Bloodied is my spear,
Battered is my shield.
Riddled am I; the man in a broken mirror.
Cease this War of Vainty,
Knowest well that thy body is but a summer’s leaf.
Tend to the roots.
For then thou will find security.
For the tree which thou hast stemmed from
will always remain.
Remove thy spear,
and set aside the shield accostumed.
Lest you remain fruitless.
Learning not to love the rain,
nor seeking justice in the sun.
A mere life of ruin and emptiness.