staring

Staring.

He stares back through pearls and marble

Green, cantered with his black soul

His teeth clench, drenched in the sweat

Of labour, of living, of longing.

Now his hair is faded, skin weathered

Scars of Sun and sins.

A hand reaches across his face

Touching his lips as if to taste

The words he endeavours to make.

The stains of days sticks to his attire 

Stretched by the belly that once held fire

No longer with the gait of youth

The step of defiance, the stamina sustained 

And in his footsteps strides relief

Of one path followed, one ideal swallowed.

This is what I see. Only I know

What tethers beneath.

The wedge that drives purpose

From insanity.

In our own shell, we still fail

In knowing who stares back

When we are alone.