Age of a New Dawn

-by Garrett Berg


The dawn breaks upon his face,

His feet shudder, shake

He stares at the sky, blank

Stars vanishing in the light

He grasps his gun with his might

Holds it close, tight

His hands tremble, fright

Blood staining his fingers

His color draining,

His strength small, waning

His will gone, breaking

Where to go? Where to go?

What must he dare

To obtain his passion, care?

His friend dead, despair

What is it worth?
-

He despises his own birth

Cursing the ground, earth

It gave him life, birth

They stole it

What had been their goal?

Was it his spirit, soul?

Was it power, control?

He hated them

They had dictated

What he invented, created

He left, vacated

His feet fled

His friend lay dead

On his natural grave, bed

His eyes empty, soul shed

Gone.

His gun shines in the new dawn

It has started, begun

Nothing will stop him, none

From finding the dawn