Come, Shield and Charger
Set yourself to steel; a shield is needed
And we can have no spike against the hand,
No weakness to bring harm to the bearer,
Or Death will have a merry feast this war.
Your troop is doubting, and are they correct?
Come, Charger – leader of the family – ,
It is time to ride to battle, and prove
That, though with faltered step, you lead with love.
Born To Death
Bodies begin to fail and are to die,
I should have known this from the day of my birth.
Born to lives of black dogs and brutish men,
But now to hope, faith, and love in rebirth.
We have placed a true treat on the top rung,
And beyond that a dreamland with peace hung;
It is our promise that a home is there,
But you choose to descend so, child, beware.
The base stick will beat you and break you down,
That you might still choose to climb to your crown
And not jump to suffering, then fall deep
Having leapt into Death with other sheep,
Not turning to the Shepherd’s rod or call
But shearing your wool to sell to the wolf.
Know you not one parable which He taught?
We fear for your life, that you will be caught.
He lights and draws on a cig
Before pocketing his hands.
His chilled demeanour burns out,
As that lit cig which he’d kissed
Heats the outside of his thigh.
He then forces a pained shrug:
“That’s what smoking does to you!”
I feel death’s drawing string
Tighten round my depthed heart.
Praying: “I thank Thee, Lord,
He is not as Thou art.”
Death is fallible in
‘Least one way certainly.
I know that his cord is
Fought by all or many.
With thy strong arm beneath
I will fight him once more.
Without thee I am lost:
“Make thy Spirit my core.”
A wishing which arises in destitute times,
Based upon a foundation made up of a truth,
A possibility that flickers, giving signs,
That, yes indeed, it could be taken as a proof.
Oh, to sleep! Oh, to dream! Such wonderful things that they are! I wish sometimes that I had had a bit more in my schooldays, and maybe a little more right now. Though both are my own fault in a sense!
Dreaming is another matter entirely. I find it really fun. The other night I dreamt the world ended and I was overrun by a wall of water. I have died a lot in my dreams, I don’t know if that means something!
Either way, goodnight, sleep well.
Sleep is a wonderful thing,
Not again will I desire,
To hold both my drooping eyes,
Awide at a blue lit fire.
To rest in colours of dreams,
In folds of imaginings,
Worlds of my own creation,
This has given my past wings.