What Critical Thought Has Cost Me Poem by James McLain

And critical thought once left him;
without judgment, many were his days
and once that fire, upon his mind
and the sun was gone, and now.
And then lost in the shadows hollow
hand are the memories and my name,
and the cotton sky, left me to drift,
and only the moon could see me.
And so quietly, lost without sight
and hushed for they might hear me,
and herein; was the knell,
that hill upon i kneel,
and of the wounded lion,
and throaty it's roar was i,
and laid bare, was thus my head,
and hot in the savanna of her name,
and in this, they knew it was again i,
and i knew them not and they left me thus,
and their shame and their guilt grew worse,
and innocent for their time, out there to wander,
and into such, that it was, i came back to earth.
And back it is that i am,
and accountable for such to she,
and they shall be buried together too drift..
and when the moon entered from the back,
the bottom drops out of plain sight.