The Reluctant Soldier: VIII
Posted January 7th, 2017 by Gracithe1andonly
in capacitated by my intense emotions
Pairs patrolling the perilous Coastal swamps,
Carrying our lives in packs on our bent backs.
He leans on the log impatiently, swift,
Rumble on, thunder! I taunt you; for in this stone shelter
Your strong arm cannot reach my comrade and me.
It may tempt fate to taunt a force of nature,
But fate is welcome!
The irony does not escape me, who dared
Tempt fate and taunt nature, that I am sitting
Drenched to the skin, washed by a violent river,
Laughing in relief.
This book was muddied by my weary, large hands,
And now, too, it has suffered a slight ducking.
Praise be that this pack is made of rain-cloth, which
I will never willingly tempt fate again,
For I am slightly wiser now, less merry,
Less flippant; I know that fate and the gods will
Hold me to my word.
I know not what tomorrow holds, yet I feel
Ready for anything. Is this youth’s rashness,
The same folly that instigated this war,
Tore me from my home?
The only knowledge that I have of Wisdom
Is that she is the opposite of Folly,
Whom I know quite well, having seen her often.
Yet I seek Wisdom!
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