Thomas Matthew Edgar
On shadowed path I wend my way
Through pools of flickering light
I stumble, wounded, bloodied, bent
In random aimless flight.
The bitter taste of battles lost
Lie acrid on my tongue.
With hesitant acceptance
I give to those whoíve won
Acknowledgement of victory
Let them enjoy today,
For it is purely pro tempore;
Tomorrow they will pay.
My scars will heal, my plans will shape,
My spirit will renew.
The unsuspecting enemy
Will get their worthy due.
When I am ready, when Iím right
When my planís complete
The pawn will fall, the rook will run,
The Bishop will retreat
Misguided faith, mistaken trust
First led me to my fall;
But marching drums of vengeance
Will make no sound at all.
Sanctum Sanctorum will be breached
Iíll catch them in their nest
Iíll taste the sweetest fruit of all
As I seal their final rest