The Will

The days trudge mirthlessly on and on
to months so tortured and disturbed,
Swaying away into the west
where reddened clouds begin to burn.

Failed attempts to bury strength
resound in echos from the hill
upon which I've seen the arms
marching to a villainous shrill.

I've dreamt in ocean's careful tides;
east to west and seen the Fates
who brought me homeward through an eye
piercing daggers of my will.

Vengeful wrath blowing hard
with truth scornful in my hand,
their actions bared to grating sand...
and I am alone directing the wind.