And Now, These Chains…

Great mountains there are,
as numerous as sand from that dusty sock we shake,
like cold-stunned iguanas that fall on Floridian winters.
Nothing lasts, ‘tis the only truth I know;
emperors, kings, conquerors all,
mighty men around us fall.

Came I with naught,
with naught depart,
lusting no more for ephemeral things.
Trinkets once had I. Lost. All. Now lost.
Indulge I no more. I walk, then rest,
by the light… the single light on the mast.

What was luxury?
Abstemious. Domiciled. Lonely. Not alone.
Paying homage to green mountains clad
as canopies morph to red and lone wolves howl
and birds fly in fright
as the darkness around do I curse though the moonlight bids me come.
Adieu, said I to you, from this cloistered mountain cage.

Disclaimer: I do not claim ownership of the images in this piece.