I Believe You Are Wrong

A Poem from me, to me, to me

Photo by Piotr Makowski on Unsplash

“I believe you are wrong” he said
He, gristled and gray as the last snow
Before spring.
His mind had been tested in the
Realm of matter
His life had been lived with fury
With the ebb and flow of greater forces.
And I sat, nodding
Laughing at this faded mirror.
In my eyes he was a failure
His aura was of resignation
Of surrender.
And that is how it is
To sit in youth.
Lacking any understanding
That life is like a forge
Bending potential
In star red coals and chaos
“One day you will understand”
He smiled and checked
With a Pawn