Once the world seemed new
full of promise
beckoning
smiling.

I was knighted, sent
to derring-do
fearlessly
without fail.

But I found that I failed
and hurt
and feared
and did not heal.

The fault must be in me
I thought
I felt
I feared.

I redoubled the beknighted deeds
to prove them wrong
or prove them right
I could not tell.

But hurt without heal cannot last
I fell
crushed
seemingly for good.

Long I wandered shadowy lands
no faith
no hope
but not bereft of love.

For love descended
and stayed
and hurt
and healed.

Shattered, yet reknit
slowly
ascending
to light.

I brought with me a part
of that shadow
undesired
yet inseparable.

Now the world seems old
full of promise
beckoning
yet sadder and wiser than before.