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?