Dies the Fire

I whisper to the world

words uneasy for me,

except when offered

only to you, though

now I find they fall

and fail at carrying

the meaning of the moment,

and mark now my faults;

and I find before me

a fate unwinding

against my will,

without design

and though I struggle

to stand this line

I wonder at what

the world will think

of the hero who falls

from lack of passion?