Hiding from your fantasy
At the usual roundtable
From being that next candidacy
Fighting for that righteous stable
Too many foolish words are spoken
Narrowing what could be retained
Starving for that stand yet not broken
Taking the time making this Ingrained.
When the inner fear strikes at you
Don’t run away too far, slap it down
Look for its core that flies in you
Face it sternly, grip it’s crown.
Watch as the many fall laying at your feet
Greet not their calm but their beast
It is only then are they out of control
Stand bold to that face fold it at its crease.
more by THOMAS DEANGELO
photograph by Tom Sodoge