Self-Redemption

His poison is like a wall of harsh, cold wind,
pummeling my body and knocking me down.
It pulses through my veins, envelopes and suffocates,
surrounds me and closes me in.
I fight through the barrier, chase him out of my mind and my heart,
driving him away like a pack of famished wolves preying on a lost hunter
preparing to feast on his warm, fleshy, misery,
eager to let his life source flow from him
and stain the pristine, crystalline earth.
Nature and rationality come tumbling down
as a broken man crumples to the earth now his crimson crypt
as I, energized by his weakness and stronger than ever,
rise from my place of submission.
Like a modern David who has conquered Goliath,
I too am empowered by what I know to be impossible.
I too have woken the dead and led my army across mountains and deserts to
the battle front where he now gazes at me with staggering regret.
He remarks his mistake resting tranquil in the untouched expanse of snow between us.
He cannot reach it from his place of pride and superficiality.
He cannot sink so low as to touch swords and admit defeat.
Even so, he cannot deny me my satisfaction with his inane vanity -
I know without a doubt I have won my war.