Its the power of old that failed me.
A single form of power.
The power was in the air,
and in the shadow on the wall.
This power could pierce the heart.
The darkness in the eyes of power,
had penetrated innocence.
The power got in the blood and ran cold.
The sound of power was creepiness to the ears.
It enveloped substance energy and motion.
The power carried anger that raged inside.
It crushed the gentleness of spirits.
But the more the power thought it gained,
the more it lost.
The more the effort,
the more the cost.
Just when it seemed that the power,
would not loose its grip it did.
It prayed on weakness,
but the weakness in fact proved strong!
What once was defenseless,
was defenseless no more.
I learned that it was not power,
but madness that infected my life.
He felt gifted in the power over me.
But I am gifted in the power of thought.
Power is not what we hold over others.
But instead a quality we see in ourselves for good.
My power is in healing,
and strength of spirit,