Purple (Judgment)
The royal leavings of the evening
Have a swiftness unmatched in their passing.
Where the tentative past decayed,
There bursts the enlightened present
And the intuitions, intimations
Of a shroud left behind.
In twilight, we come to light the lamp of wisdom
As we hold the final preparations close.
The wounded soldier, face and race obscured, grimaces as life rushes out
“I tried at this game called humanity
And purple was my heart
But I am not one to say whether my efforts were noble.”
Who lives with our deeds at the end?
2/12/11
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