In solitude I rise or fall,
No pride or tale is too tall.
The mountaintop view,
Or the cave-bottom crawl.
To gain the sweetest of victories,
Or to admit the sourest of defeats.
Cavil war within rages and surges on,
Angels aid and enemies ruthless spawn.
To create, construct, and craft,
Or to destroy, destruct in daft.
Father has gifted son with ability to accomplish much.
The question lies, will gift be scepter or crutch?
Find peace my dear son when battle’s won,
Not regret and guilt after reckless fun.
So much I will grant you,
If simply you seek me in your solitude.
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About the Creator
Rowan Finley
Father. Academic Advisor. Musician. Writer. Aspiring licensed mental health counselor. My real name is Jesse Balogh.
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