The Good Fight

dear reader:

Allow me to repeat myself:

At my death, I hope someone will say: "He fought the good fight."


THE GOOD FIGHT

In the dream, I knelt down

into a circle of light
found on the floor
of a dusty dark tunnel

and in an instant
an upswell of energy
saturated me--a sensation
both buoyant and dense--

my whole being hummed
with the grand expansion

yet at the same time
I felt diminished
by a power so great:
consumed--overwhelmed

I soon woke in fear

and immediately lost the feeling

then cursed my weakness

as I often do
when I give in
to lower instinct
and reject what
my higher instinct desires.

However
I didn't lose completely:

whenever I remember
that underground light
I can sense (just vaguely)
that force of peace
within me--

within me
yet frightfully foreign:

I doubt I could ever
live with that mysterious intensity
for more than
the occasional moment.

But no matter--
a recent dream shows me
determined to return--
fighting

through a dusty storm wind
toward a dim distant light

and though I feel so weak

the exhilaration spurs me on.

© 2018, Michael R. Patton
my war for peace: poetry ebook