##A Mafia's prayer##poetry##

A Mafia's Prayer

The wind gossips secrets through the leaves,
And the moon paints awful images on the water's face.
Alone, I stand here, a shadow in the night,
My heart a tower, my mind - my greatest weapon.

I have tasted the bitter fruits of ambition,
And felt the sting of betrayal's blade like Caesar did.
Today, this shadow rises again, stronger than before,
My spirit forged in the fires put on by kinsmen.

Here, I am the master of my own destiny,
The architect of my own fate - my own way.
No force can break me, no storm can bury me,
For I am the storm, the fire, the unyielding will, the rebel.

I walk the path of power as I prey, no one is innocent.
With a steady hand and a watchful eye, I hunt.
I see the world as it is - naked and unholy,
Like a table cloth made with threads of light and darkness.

I am the king of this empty kingdom,
And I will rule with or without wisdom and grace.
My word is law, my will is iron, my thoughts are reality,
And my enemies must tremble before me or I make the crack.

I am the master of my own fate, my faith and my state.
And I will shape it with my own gouge and chisel.
I will rise above the shadows in the valleys of death,
And claim my rightful place in the sun - the moon is occupied