Saturday, January 4, 2014

Will O the Wisp



When will o’ the wisps and warlords
Have met their seminal end
And battle cries from tattered skies
On shattered ears do not descend
No maidens left to lamentations  
In my memory dear friend
The destiny of the bones of me
Not mine to comprehend

A pocket full of posies
For the masters shambling sheep
Trundles the harrow cut to the marrow
The offal tossed the skulls we keep
This ossuary silent offering
With no one left to weep
Clip clop the bridge of sorrow we cross
Eternity before we sleep

And so it goes with the hands of man
Rend the flesh till the water runs red
Words cut bone and thoughts break stone
Gluttons retch and the starved go unfed
Sheep bleat for the voice of Master
But can’t remember what was said
Sheep are sheep they cannot offer
The song of life to the dead
TL Boehm 
04/23/13

Picture By an amazing artist named Fred Einardi 

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