An awful crown one’s been adorned.

With flower crimson and stem of thorns.

This glaring fixture facing fears.

Sweating blood and dripping tears.

Does man know nothing else?

But to succumb to what he’s felt?

Surely not. We command ourselves.

To obey others or our own principles.

Fate belongs to those who seize it.

Not those who believe their disease ridden.

Human will is not determined

At least for those who acknowledge their burdens.

There’s an intersection between celebration and suffering.

Which path is worth the condemnation and letting your lover grieve?

12 December 2015