give me the patience

to sustain
my brittle ambitions
and fight the Great War
of my own lonely heart.

give me the patience to endure
solitude
for my mysteries remain unresolved.

And now the secret keeper has parted
the secret lies here, bigger,
bigger than before
grimace in its eyes
but the more i ignore it, the more it grows
golden ribs like claws around my lungs.

the skeleton around me does grow
for i keep reminding myself of England
the land where i conquered my soul
not for good, but to show
that I could do it if only I wanted to.

Now I shall go.
Not to the land of impolite snow,
but to the only one I wished I didn’t have to.

But I have to, before I turn old
to fight this dragon alone,
take its claws and make them my own.
Then I shall return.
Not to England where I conquered my soul,
but South where it lays
waiting for me to be able to sustain
my brittle ambitions.

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