The Poet Soldier Pt.5

Winter's solstice just behind, the days grew longer still ahead. Past and present leaders present, all eyes and lenses focused on the future leader present here. The poet soldier focused on the future with past experience present. Soon enough, all others present would fade into preoccupation of their past occupation. The man in the center, the poet soldier, would hold all focus for the present and the future. Past experience and past performance placed the poet soldier in his present predictament. Future's fortune or future's famine lay at the feet and head of the poet soldier.

Eleven days hence the bell would toll the eleventh hour. Many believed the clock had chimed eleven times already. Many more believed the hands had frozen on the face of time. Time alone would tell the toll of the frozen, ticking clock. Moving ahead, all faces and hands would be by the poet soldier lead. No more would past inglorious abhorence be suborned by insolent subordinates. Hard woods, true lines and solid connections built cabinets that tested time. The poet soldier had built his cabinet strong. Time alone would tell his attention hard, true and solid. Precious and fragile would be the contents this new cabinet would hold. Dreams and aspirations of the people of this land were more precious and fragile than all gold and silk ever gathered and spun.

Sixteen hundred, a new address, a new old home in an old new city. A city named for the man to first hold the title the poet soldier would soon assume. A spire, a monument to a man of the people, rose in the city's center in a park in which another man's dreams were spoken. He now assumed the place so many others had to aspired. Soon enough, the poet soldier would assume the position at the center of this city that seemed so far away. His rise here would rise all others allover.
When free at last all others would be, the task of the poet soldier would be complete. But free at last would always be a dream of dreamers of the free. So many more would toil in the lament of bond's restraint. When free at last all others lament would fall on ears not listening. But now was the time to not be deaf to the screams that filled the nights and days of those in sufferance. This city that seemed so far from all suffering seemed closer each longer passing day.

So it was with much restraint the poet soldier watched the Sun's arc grow each day 'till time and day would pass the torch that barely flickered the flame that burned within. And each arc of darkness grew shorter still 'till an eqiunox would bring the two to parity. By then he hoped that new winds of change would fan the flicker into a flame that burned within and burned without. And burning bright, the flame of change and hope might yet illuminate past the world of darkness present in the future yet unknown. With past leaders present, all future eyes focused on the poet soldier and his occupation's promise. With night's time diminishing, the days grew longer still ahead.