The Templars and the Saracens





Savings and loans

He sees it settle in along her shoulder line

A weight beyond gravity

Pressing her down into her chair

Anxious eyes traverse the planes of her face

A probe seeking signs of a happier life

His heart tumbles when he discovers her

Trapped upon a stone covered mesa

An isolated landscape inaccessible to the most intrepid

He would jump into fire for a just shot at rescue

But the shot will never come

There’s no magic bullet

This is the grinding machinery of life

The crushing wheel of monotonous routine

No one else can play the hero

Only she can save herself.





Words and image are my own.




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