If You Fight With Windmills Poem by Brian Arguello

Until my dying day
Or until I desecrate the soul
For they are nearly the same
As long as the blood rushes through my veins
I'll continue treading softly through the rain
Whether with misty eyes
Or joyful cries
For my misery
Is kin to me
Little it maybe
And although timidly in my start
I will rush
And you will see me
Fulfill my destiny
Making for attack
On the windmill
Persistently until
Death attempt
To do me and the soul apart
An ending so tart and sour
I hope it be a victory
Sweet like the scent of a flower
With a heavenly quire
As I float amongst the stars
Above the windmill
Above the mire