POETRY: A Clash of Wills

I am not afraid of thee.  Though silken wings brush soft until the stillness falls.  I have power too, that paused the hands of gods in mere the knowing.  But gentle is my way, the path of compromise.  And if I stumble, or lose hold of the lantern, I shall recover in the darkness and find footing in the bed of ashes still warm from an ancient past.