Sunday, April 8, 2012

Might of Light

Your hand seems to tower over mine in
The shadows of the failing day; thy sin
Also seems to be the overcast of
Works once beauteous to behold. Govern
Your works you may still, hold not to spurn fair
Counsels such as these I do offer you;
For time is but a shadow that seeks due
Payment for the rays of light gone through
Your body, absorbed by bodily veins
That do creep through you, as life feigns from death.
Yet know that the dreaded hand of fate does
Never tire from it's quest and it's hate
Can be likened to an ever growing
Cloud of fire in the skies blowing late
Night dews that otherwise would skate
Upon the blades of grass in morning's light;
Turning them to broken shards as rust fights
The temper of the blade without remorse.
So shall your hand be overcome, the course
Of your life altered not by vanities,
And the toil wrought from insanities
Made bare, the malignancy of their sight
Tempering only the wrath and the might
Of your enemies yet to come with rage!
But overcome the foolishness of cages
Wrought in the secret of your own folly,
Thought bent into being by dark tall tree's
That did take the semblance of beings grand;
For what oath do you hold with they that walk,
Speak ill of your true masters and then talk
With arrogance the likes of a large pig?
I beg that you may not suffer the fig
Tree's fate; for his horrid spell of drought was
First rate going on eternity! Hell
In the form of a dreaded hand of death
Shall rise up to meet and greet your breath
Of vapors and fume casting aside your
Petty and feeble imitations cast
By the failing light of day, blast your plans
Into the everlasting pits! For hast
Anyone in your whole host defied the bans
Of what you now propose to do? Had they
You would have listened to counsel! Mad are
You to forbear yourselves in secrecy,
And maintain the course of dread. Flee all, now!
For soon the shadow of your hand shall call
Out from the nothingness it becomes; for
Wall's of light shall marshal to heavens doors
And cause fight's to be meaningless, hens
Do have better chance of flying high then
You have of defeating the foe of which
You speak! Thus I have spoken, the ditch you
Dig shall serve to bury you in when done
Is your rebellion. Hurry through so sun
May once again shine out in peaceful light;
After conquering shadows, and your blight.

                                                                  Might of Light, (c) Luke Bennette, April 2012

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