The vessel inside overflows.
Screaming to expand.
The trying, the tearing.
The overcometh of each battle, each day.
As those warriors say.
We leave nothing but our trail.
Blood and candles to light the way for others.
A legacy gilds the petal of our history.
The bloom of overcome.
The fragrance of succeeding.
In the skin that sheared from the bone.
And tears the weep from eyes that have seen tomorrow.
We sleep an eternal rest, knowing that we tried.
So now sweet moment, which I gather in it’s lustre.
I be present with you, and smile at the strength it took to make it.
Where I fall, may there be lilies and lotus flowers.
Marking the space as sacred and inviting.
An organic tombstone to one, who did nothing but try.
Havoc and Consequence 