MY SINGULAR EDGE
Today in my garage I found the pitchfork
I'd dislodged - a long time ago - from
the back of some wizard-king. It still had
his flesh and blood on it, stuck. I carefully
washed it off with kerosene, and hung it
back on the hook on the wall. I remember
that day well : I'd thought I'd finally slain
some sort of dragon, a nemesis I'd bested.
But he got up and walked away.
Every day, I'm still tested.