Poetry @ languidnights

a lost soul

fallen away from the Church

feels a pull

a draw back

why do they consider to return?

faith may be gone, or weak

and yet, a desire to return

be community

on the holy days

like millions afore them

it's tradition

an advent of poetry

a challenge, one a day

who will win

who will lose

...

we all win---even if we lose---

for there is now more art in the world

drums in the cavern

our soul is stone

we hear a warning

of coming doom

a runner we'll send

the house of durin

will live forever

even may we fall

was not greed

though that the say

but pride

formed balin's tomb

Burning hot

passion

undirected

a lust

but for what?

is it love

is it hate

is it to build

or to destroy

all I know

is it burns

it's peacetime

the blue and red

sweeping the streets

strapped with peaces

and a street sweeper

who are they come for

it's peacetime

so whoever they come for

they come for you

revenge

is the death of the soul

for what can bring a good man

to kill an evil one

and assume his position

like

revenge

My drive demands

that I write great and mighty

and weighty things

full of mythos and reference

and high symbolism

but my reality

says sometimes

I must write simple

Come, see our Church

See the golden trim around

the feet of our pauper god.

See the velvet and fur woven

in the vestments of our clergy.

Hear the peel of the bell

summoning the faithful

to our opulence.

Inhale the incense, an aroma

fit for a king.

Is it …

the sky is dark

and the world quiet

surely its too late

to shop or be out

except

except it's after time change

and not only is it not late

it's downright early evening