Chariot’s turning, blood’s running –
I am for triumph unworthy:
Whose chariot wallows in blood,
He’ll burst into flames this world.
Unworthy for triumph, I depart,
I turn my chariot to the sky,
I sweep as a gale-notion, then
I return with my peace-self.
If my chariot is driven by peace,
I will be for triumph worthy:
My axle tramples in petals,
My world’s painted by purple dawn…
16/12. 2019., by J. W. Cassandra
