Come, Fate, and show your hand to me
I need to know today
when will my mind again be free
when will the bastard pay?
Damokles, in uncertainty
you hang above, a threat
the thought of patience is for me
a stranger not yet met.
As in my dream a voice rang out
denying me his hand
I wanted to reply by shout
I could not understand.
'You need to be', the voice had said
'the man who stands alone,
without souffleur who would have fed
instructions to a clone.'
I took to heart the earnest words
and into war I entered
above flew vultures, as all birds
had gone as I now centred
my weapons to the villain's heart
a mess of useless flesh,
brute force against a work of art
a liar's cobweb mesh.
The battle raged, or so I dreamed
until the morning broke
and in the twilight, so it seemed
suspended from an oak
he had, a coward's last Hurray
deprived me of my dues.
I paused beneath the tree to pray
and did not want his shoes.
Herbert Nehrlich
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-his-shoes/
