Hordes to my left,
Battalions to my right,
Rushing to the point of meeting
Eager for the fight.
At that central point
I sit in calm repose,
Feeling that my story just might
Be drawing to a close.
No shield, no sword or weapon
I have to save my life,
Nor armor nor wall nor hill
Own I, to divert this strife.
Should I dare to stand
And make known my place,
Doubtless shall my story end
By spear, or sword, or mace.
It's not death I fear.
I have longed for it before.
It is, rather, that I wish not
My end be one of gore.
How, then, came I here
To a place where men will die?
It is to here that I was banished
Because I chose to try.
A tale, a book so powerful
That hardest hearts would weep...
Such a tale I wrote
That, others, hope would keep.
In this place, so beautiful,
Despite descending doom,
I chose to write the book
That would shed light on the gloom.
I sit here now, where forces
Will so soon with fury meet.
How will I survive it
While I can yet stand on my feet?
This ink, this quill, this parchment-
These weapons that I wield-
Can create the armor that will
These embattled souls shield.
By my words here written,
And the heart from whence they come,
Have lives and hearts been let to live
That helps them reach their sum.
The horns and trumpets blaring.
Opponents yards away.
I step out from my hiding place
And speak one soft word,
"Stay."
beatingheart2
Thursday, July 30, 2015
Friday, July 24, 2015
I, Writer
Pen of crystal; ink, liquid gold.
"No impure heart can use it," I'm told.
"Lest such a heart shrivels and dries.
Knowing the peril that, in this pen, lies,
Any non-dreamer who wields it, dies."
The shopkeeper, peering bleakly at me,
Touches not the pen I see.
Within a glass case the wondrous pen
Draws the eyes of all women and men.
It is only a simple matter of when.
"By this pen was love found at first sight
By it that same love won the fight,
Estranging him from love he had won,
Hands red by deed required of some.
Two lovers, lives lost in love undone."
"This pen wrote the tale of an embattled queen,
Working to stop a bloody scene.
Her people, by edict, doomed to be killed.
A king's heart, with poison, his enemy had filled.
His wife's only chance: to be steel-willed."
"The ink in this pen was made, not on earth,
But in shop celestial, where known is a soul's worth.
There such ink was in this crystal made.
No treacherous hand has ever betrayed
Its purpose. Such, God's own hand has stayed."
The shopkeeper's words have done naught to still
Excitement starting, this heart, to fill.
This heart, beginning to know
What brought it here scarce moments ago
Is decided. I feel it start to glow.
A moment's silence. Shopkeeper and I
Look unblinking, eye to eye.
"Never have I had the thought this to do,"
Shopkeeper murmurs. "But I feel it too.
I believe this pen was meant for you."
With shaking hands he unlocks the case.
By aid of glove, pen removed from its place.
Heaven's pen now in my hand gleams.
Twas indeed meant for me, it seems.
I, Writer, now wake from my dreams.
I sit up in my small twin-sized bed,
Enthralled by visions that dance in my head.
Knowing that my dreams are meant to be real,
Sensing that my sorrows have healed,
I, Writer, envision a vast, open field.
This field is home to all of my aches,
My hurts, my pains, yet too, glistening lakes,
Flowing rivers, and streams, and forests green,
Wondrous mountain ranges never seen.
I, Writer, make them so blue, so green.
Dream to make beauty is something I hold
Deep at my center. My dream is pure gold.
A dream able to carry me through.
A dream big enough to enthrall me anew.
I, Writer, give this dream to You.
beatingheart2
"No impure heart can use it," I'm told.
"Lest such a heart shrivels and dries.
Knowing the peril that, in this pen, lies,
Any non-dreamer who wields it, dies."
The shopkeeper, peering bleakly at me,
Touches not the pen I see.
Within a glass case the wondrous pen
Draws the eyes of all women and men.
It is only a simple matter of when.
"By this pen was love found at first sight
By it that same love won the fight,
Estranging him from love he had won,
Hands red by deed required of some.
Two lovers, lives lost in love undone."
"This pen wrote the tale of an embattled queen,
Working to stop a bloody scene.
Her people, by edict, doomed to be killed.
A king's heart, with poison, his enemy had filled.
His wife's only chance: to be steel-willed."
"The ink in this pen was made, not on earth,
But in shop celestial, where known is a soul's worth.
There such ink was in this crystal made.
No treacherous hand has ever betrayed
Its purpose. Such, God's own hand has stayed."
The shopkeeper's words have done naught to still
Excitement starting, this heart, to fill.
This heart, beginning to know
What brought it here scarce moments ago
Is decided. I feel it start to glow.
A moment's silence. Shopkeeper and I
Look unblinking, eye to eye.
"Never have I had the thought this to do,"
Shopkeeper murmurs. "But I feel it too.
I believe this pen was meant for you."
With shaking hands he unlocks the case.
By aid of glove, pen removed from its place.
Heaven's pen now in my hand gleams.
Twas indeed meant for me, it seems.
I, Writer, now wake from my dreams.
I sit up in my small twin-sized bed,
Enthralled by visions that dance in my head.
Knowing that my dreams are meant to be real,
Sensing that my sorrows have healed,
I, Writer, envision a vast, open field.
This field is home to all of my aches,
My hurts, my pains, yet too, glistening lakes,
Flowing rivers, and streams, and forests green,
Wondrous mountain ranges never seen.
I, Writer, make them so blue, so green.
Dream to make beauty is something I hold
Deep at my center. My dream is pure gold.
A dream able to carry me through.
A dream big enough to enthrall me anew.
I, Writer, give this dream to You.
beatingheart2
Wednesday, July 1, 2015
War-Light
War at the table. War on the streets.
War in the hearts of souls we meet.
War dividing what was once complete.
War in the mailbox. War in young eyes.
War to seek, above all, every prize.
War to redefine the meaning of lies.
War glorified in glory's name.
War made a movie, a commercial, a game.
War to make true love a reason for shame.
War that one wagered. War that some join.
War, to put new faces on coin.
War made a joy. More will soon join.
War waged by one against that same one.
War that is no longer fun.
War to freeze hearts. Loved ones shun.
War that broke what is again breaking.
War that steals what one rightfully is staking.
War to use masks that others are making.
War that pierces you all the way through,
War wherein you know not what to do.
War repainted in a different hue.
War Without, that threatens my life.
War that inside gives naught but strife.
War that brings me the dull of hate's knife.
War that I labor ever to fight.
War, that this bright torch will keep burning bright.
War. I'll always hold up the light.
War that we have long fought in.
War wherein both sides are growing thin
War that, nonetheless, we will win.
War in the hearts of souls we meet.
War dividing what was once complete.
War in the mailbox. War in young eyes.
War to seek, above all, every prize.
War to redefine the meaning of lies.
War glorified in glory's name.
War made a movie, a commercial, a game.
War to make true love a reason for shame.
War that one wagered. War that some join.
War, to put new faces on coin.
War made a joy. More will soon join.
War waged by one against that same one.
War that is no longer fun.
War to freeze hearts. Loved ones shun.
War that broke what is again breaking.
War that steals what one rightfully is staking.
War to use masks that others are making.
War that pierces you all the way through,
War wherein you know not what to do.
War repainted in a different hue.
War Without, that threatens my life.
War that inside gives naught but strife.
War that brings me the dull of hate's knife.
War that I labor ever to fight.
War, that this bright torch will keep burning bright.
War. I'll always hold up the light.
War that we have long fought in.
War wherein both sides are growing thin
War that, nonetheless, we will win.
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