The Fight Poem by Gadarowski Michael

Still the thought, to walk in fear.
Tis love must carry thee o’er.
But can I rightly chart my course
When perched upon this bier.

Rhythmically, reciting, versing,
Singingly re-rehearsing,
Waiting till the time is right
Fearlessly to face my plight.

But another day is done
And I am no farther on
Then as if I’d ne’er begun,
Yet my race is half-way done.

Up it is the hour to fight.
Why decline to use thy might.
Will you die afraid to stand,
Stuck between the sea and land.

Grasp the tiller, take the oar,
Press the voyage, fear no more,
Cast away from safe and sure.

Do not think to hide within
Walls that are so shallow thin.
Can honor dwell midst the night
Of this fantasy of light?