Going Forward

It is hard. It is the definition of difficulty as described
in the human language. Now it is felt with tremendous
force, sending sirens and shockwaves through the system
of life and the world as perceived by my puny mind.

It feels impossible. Impassive in its arrays of onslaughts
against my vulnerable self-esteem, and identity itself
gives way; Not to be destroyed, but to evolve.

How does one desire evolution and a higher destiny
when its easy and even everlastingly pleasurable to
waste life in the company of Odyssus' crew on a patch
of mushrooms of forgetfulness, Callypso's Island?

I could have everything I crave at a moments beck and call
and forever silence the still small, yet somehow less
soothing voice of my soul yearning for its kingdom.

The sirens' sultry song stays still as sweet
As that of wine that brings me to the feet
of slav'ry. Once for all to finally kill
the measure of my destiny, and ill-
lived, try to lay my heart to rest. But "NO!"
screams out that voice again, that boy who O
so long ago believed in Cam'lot's dream.
He will not silenc'd be, he'll kick! His screams
and warriors' wails, his lions' roars will shake
the walls cause tremors in the floors! He'll take
his crown from the Fates' Fiery fangs and die
for virtue's sake, for honor lost, he'll try
just one more time to be the the Man Apart
A King, e'en if alone, with broken heart.