THE MEN WHO DESCEND
“Federaste or Perish / Grasp or Sink” by Stanislav Szukalski.
When he entered the haze
He drifted for days
He was more at home
To be farther away
Possessed by the pieces
A mind filled with pictures
He kept to the fog
To gather his distance
An untethered soul
Adrift in a world
Where the sky opens up
And swallows men whole
With no roots and no soil
Living things cannot grow
But what holds men together
Collects its own toll
He looked toward the ground
His demons crawled out
From under the roots
Came a low, rattling growl
He would need to dig in
To give up his wings
To begin a lone battle
With a great many things
The men who descend
Are the heroes, uncrowned
With no light to guide them
They fight their way out
They slay great beasts
That no one else sees
With no weapons in hand
They battle for peace.
