They Tremble

They tremble like dying leafs
clinging to the branch in the premature gusts
of a coming storm, so nervous and excited young lovers can be,
questering for truth, or power, like ancient conquerors
against enemies with numbers too high
and forces too strong to ever be conquered.

Like Spartan soldiers at Thermopylae,
they drive on with deep eyes and gentle glances knowing,
or at least hinting at the loss, the heart ache,
the dismembered spoils that await them.
All is fair but the blind are lame in battle,
lament for their childhood for love has stolen it.
And now they tremble against each other,
such wonderful epilepsy.

Fools lead to slaughter by their own predictions,
expectations, and false hopes.
Someday they'll be humbled and settled
and tell the lies of happiness.
But for now they tremble as one,
a machine pounding out a hollow, yet so steady, beat.
Such a sad cadence, such a sweet song.