Poetry: At Trumpet, Victory?

[zeeth_kyrah]

When at last the music calls,
My heart ceases,
My body falls,
I shall then have but one last cry:
Was it victory?

For in my hunt to gain the Truth
Attain my Self,
Reveal past Youth and Age
The face that should have been,
Did I myself destroy?

Or will I find that
At last t'was done
And all was well;
That tale thus spun
Told what was, and not
What only would have been?

I wait to see.