THE WOLF’S REMORSE

Lo! Through the years, I’ve become a skeptic;

Rusting unburnished, like th’aged Ulysses.

The sharpness of my mind has turned septic;

The breath in my lungs has become a wheeze.

Yet the strength in my fist still begs to fight,

To once again tear Grendel limb from limb.

The sins of my past haunt me like a wight,

Could it be that I earned a curse from them?

I know it’s sin to commit murder, Lord,

I hold thy commandments by my bedside,

Yet they had caused injury further, Lord,

And so their punishment was eye-for-eye.

 

But now I hear my Geatish men burning

At the hands of an insatiable beast,

And I wonder if these Christian learnings

Are just the ruse of some fraudulent priest.

For it was my will that slayed these monsters,

Not the holy relics of olden times.

Mayhaps it be you were an imposter

To convict one’s enemies of false crimes.

 

But what the truth is, Lord, I do not know.

All that I can do is reap what I sow.

And if this cruel dragon would kill my men

Then I think it’s high time I kill again.

——

 

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THE FLIGHT OF THE SKYFISH

Now, we find the skyfish has taken hold.

His once clouded scales have come alive

In a shimmering rainbow, bright and bold,

And he swims in the sky for all to see.

 

I watch as all the voices around me

Light up like they had just seen a lover.

There are festivals for miles to see

Each with their own, new, succulent delights,

And the children run with their skyfish kites.

I wonder how many have read my books?

Has the pen been overcome by websites,

Who stole His words and used them as their own?

 

For this is not the world I was shown.

He gave me words to make the truth shine through—

To bring eyes to the magic paths He’d flown

Yet in the stead of my books I see blogs.

No one reads the words I’d carefully logged.

Still, I hear His voice calling out to me,

Over the screeches of the demagogues,

Like the low hum of thunder on the wind.

 

He flies out to find all those who have sinned,

To drown the ranks of rot and filth and lust.

He purges their ranks until they have binned

The infectious bacteria of life.

A man proclaims love to his brand new wife

But his eyes drift to his secretary.

She, herself, took an oath against the knife

To join her blood in with His covenant.

Though we see the truth that has come of it:

That the weakness of man poisons His sea.

 

Yet still He calls to me from the big blue;

I wonder if pride has blinded Him too?

——

 

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THE HEAVEN OF EARTH

Why is it that humans look to heaven

When all ’round them they can find their brethren?

What’s more is what they can find down below

With a sickle, a shovel, and a hoe:

Nutrients that have more glory than God.

It’s something that I have always found odd.

To turn to the ever cancerous sky

Who’s one redemption is when the clouds cry.

And we could find fresh water in rivers-

Though one must look out for things that slither,

For while mother Gaea can be loving,

She cannot prevent our cousin’s hunting.

Still I’d first trust destiny in her hands

Than under the fist of a Christian man,

Who has crusaded with a zealous pride

And burned innocent crops while on his ride.

 

The irony is that with every win

He has indulged in the cardinal sin;

That in his search for greatness and glory

He lost the teachings that he held holy.

So stick to the land and I think you’ll find

This heaven of Earth is one of a kind.

——

 

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