A sleepless night brought this forth – not one for those of the atheistic persuasion.

It is a first draft tanka (with sporadic chorus) – expect a bloodbath of editing. 🙂

(A dying man regains a little vision)

I’ve fought against you.
Overcame you many times. 
Scoffed at your weakness.
Mocked you as you quit the fray.
But did I win? Truly win?

Were you holding back, 
letting me win a play fight
like all fathers do?
Was I a noble rival
or bauble soul you toyed with?

Doubt’s floods assail me.
Soon we will meet face to face
with no hiding place
I will see you as you are
and myself as you see me.

In the stillness 
you grow brighter 
a patient glow 
enfolding me.

My limbs grow weaker.
The light of my eyes has dimmed.
I’m dull of hearing.
The will to fight has expired
but I cannot surrender.

Resistance is vain.
I continue regardless
vindicating you
giving you satisfaction 
you prevailed a worthy fight.

This was not my plan
I primed myself to enter
solemn nothingness
the pitch dank forgetfulness 
of an unknown soldier tomb.

In the stillness 
you grow brighter 
a patient glow 
enfolding me.

Shut my book of life
blot every remembrance
cancel all charges.
I have done what I have done
nothing’s left of me to blame.

I’ve cursed my curses
hated those who hated me
I’ve kissed my lovers
suffered when they proved untrue,
there were those who loved me too.

Let’s cover the times
I wounded you in others
with discretion’s veil.
Drape my coffin with freesias
Draw the line. Bury me deep.

In the stillness 
you grow brighter 
a patient glow 
enfolding me.

I cannot admit 
the times I called upon you
then checked, angry at
my frailty. Why should I want
my enemy’s assistance?

I wonder how, why
you kept simple faith in me?
I kept none in you.
I trod you down, hated you 
Scoffed, derided, denied you.

In the stillness 
you grow brighter 
a patient glow 
enfolding me…


© coolhermit 2023
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In a tiny church near here there’s a grave with a stone said to weigh ten tons covering it. It’s the grave of the “Iron King” and the words “God forgive me” are engraved on it. Your poem made me think of that. I feel an anger in this and perhaps even an arrogance? It’s very well written and thought provoking, just as I’ve come to expect from you.


why would I want to prove my existence to someone for whom i’ve arranged to grow to learn to understand to live die live again die again etc or live and die only once? or only live?

if i have arranged so that this being will indeed become perfect in every sense, it would be imperfection of my self to arrange so that the final goal is to prove I exist.

I do not matter if I am the perfect creator and knowing me is irrelevant.

this IS true love.

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