The Cloaks of the Weary Traveler | A Poem by Hendrix Kriterium

Another cloak is draped on oneself

As the clock strikes every year.

although given good tidings of health,

Still unknown the secrets held dear.

A cloak that is woven, many a thread,

Brightness and glory, envy and shame,

Born from deeds and thoughts in one's head.

Come, now watch and honor not maim.

What is both shown, and hidden alike,

On the many cloaks you wear and boast?

What have you done, when you wield and strike

The power of influence, or feelings you host?

The clock slowly ticks, never wavering,

Silently judging, as the colors stitch.

When wearing cloaks, displaying the favoring,

But still some seen, of an unseemly kitsch.

So watch now, and pray you remember,

To take heed as the colors you sew.

Though the action is now, the mark is forever,

And find guilt the unconquerable foe.

Though perhaps hidden in a careful facade,

The pains taken to shun away error.

Of the colors unseen in the world abroad,

Still they are there, left a victim of terror.

Oh weary traveler, come what it may,

But remember the fruit of your labor.

Watch as you choose, and choices today,

And come find your cloaks in good favor!