A truce

With myself at last

In the impossible silence,

Time to clear out the ruins

Before the night flames red

–

A truce

The words ring bittersweet from my tongue,

As I brace for the shatter  

Of civility’s spell

–

A truce

In this mire of my own design

To recover friends lost

In its quicksand embrace  

–

A truce

With my frayed former self,

Unmoved

By the mournful calm,

He flies his black flag higher