Chances Poem by Dylan Dowrick

And of dreams we come.

Reconnaissance, dust.

Weakness is for the strong,
and vulnerability is for the tired.

Holes in head, heart, and spirit,
pain in my legs, they run thin on blood,
they run fast on passion.

I go forever, I walk relentless.

The sunset is a mark,
a mark of the journey worth taking,
the accomplishment worth reaching for,
the games never played,
the friends never ‘hey’-ed,
the love never saved.

The sandman goes to bed,
the reaper dies in his sleep.