Aligned
with vulgar pretense
A
king is told of men
vaguely
assembled,
gathering
before
Meridian
gates
This
was not uncommon
to
hear—
for
discussions
of
this kind,
often
occur
Upon
a lea
once
so revered—
Where bards would laud
and clerics would praise
But
now resigned
To forever be,
overwhelmed, by
shadows cast, from
an aerie within
a storming sky
The
sound of horsemen
stir
the wind— relentlessly
approaching,
as once they did,
For
those near—here, in this
sacred
space—they scatter quick—
living
to pray another day
At
this hallowed ground,
a
place where armored souls
once
were welcomed in—
And
in return,
the
silver-skins
would
teach them well—
Each
the themes of doubt and fear
as
cast amidst
perpetuating
scenes
of Hell.
