The tunnel, the funnel: A poem 

Armistice is dead when agendas cross swords 

Hubris must be familiar friend across chessboards 

I have no place for detente in my determined walk 

Boundaries are always stolen with diplomatic talk 

I administer conviction’s concoctions with a mother’s care 

I can bely falsehoods’ expectations and always dare 

My resolute solitude is a treasure on a far-flung island 

They can’t measure the distance with any devious hand 

And the detractors can call me a mindless reckless 

It is only to God’s jurisdiction that I am witness 

A calm sea can go calamitously rough at any time 

Yet, I know it is either the devil or deep sea in the crime 

Stories seem to be told in books that are bold 

But the unfamiliar truth is yet to unfold 

When it comes to eternity, the time in the endless tunnel 

is only an eddy in a little funnel