i found a hidden temple in the holding room –
a spiritual sanctuary of reflection
where Father Time seems to dwell in infinity,
and meditation fills the sterile air.
You had donned Your silver surgical cap
an outward sign of readiness!
but i saw in Your eyes
in the holiness of the temple walls,
You told me Your secret:
did no one else think to ask You?!
or perhaps They did not know how.
in this trusted space,
charlamos, y yo vi Su sonrisa.
You were finally ready for war, internally,
just in time
as You were then swept away for combat.
the Team prepped Your skin for incision
but it is clear i am without a role
in the Supreme Hierarchy
except as a mere
acknowledge my capacity
to have prepped your soul – for
held Your hand
as the sedation took over and
Your eyes began to close.
caught Your final glance,
stroked Your hand, and
sent You into battle.
i am indebted to You for trusting the deadweight.
You gave me a purpose
and make my passion
worth the mockery –
and so i promise