Though my mind has clearly gone,
my hollowed vessel sails on and on.
Tattered memories clatter through,
dried leaves in search of their limbs,
desperate to seek the plumpness of youth.
Their only hope; give up the fight,
to death magnetic earth,
once more, a rebirth.
Yet far and wide they stride,
the empty vastness of my tumbleweed state.
My world weary gait,
my lucid lament,
only serve to further propound confusion.
Scents send senses searching relentless.
Optical deficits, no acoustic solution.
Solution beyond reach,
beyond my touch,
and I want it so much.
For King and for country,
for valour not treason.
I search for The Season,
the peace I believe in.
For peace eternal,
for posthumous pardon.