When man grows older, monsters of his <br />own creation will follow him to his grave. <br /> <br />In his earlier day he would have turned <br />and slain the dragons of life. Now with <br />graying hair and tired eyes he is weak <br />from too many battles. <br /> <br />With his rusted sword upon the ground, his <br />body ravaged by age and an ache in his <br />heart for peace...he gently surrenders <br />to the dragons of death. <br /> <br /> <br />© Joe Fazio<br /><br />(brief renderings) Joe Fazio<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/let-me-now-rest/
