Rebirth

Polemical whispers rejoice in the fall

They quicken my footsteps while redeeming my crawl

Shrivel and learn a shrivelling myth!

As if if I drift I might sanction the rift

Between the Giver, why do You relentlessly stare;

And author the line between hope and despair?

Your eyes are like knives;

Till I realise the greatest prize

To be still and await a second demise