I don't know what she told him or
how her language could ever skew such a mind.
But it happened, it exists,
though he fights from every breath
he's known.
It was written in the mud,
that which seeps through all strata,
that he
would change it all for the better,
bubbling up and rising forth
from that never thought or foreseen.
That he
would breed on the love
thought incapable
and issue to those thought
to 'know' the breath
of a life never seen.
For triumph bleeds struggles
forever encompassed and requisite
of each other.
No victory fought
may nor ever existed
without loss,
for sacrifice is a consequence
of time.
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