Internal Landscapes VI

Internal Landscapes VI (Spenserian)

Concealment, fabled art, historic times

So grip the gun and sword in graceful dance

I tell you story of repeated crimes

Thus hidden in the macabre expanse

Of twilight. When I, face-to-face with change,

With he of whom my blade, told, “drink his blood!”

I, stifled by a sudden remonstrance,

Soon found myself next face-down in the mud

Yet body mind, aligned, seemed now to bud

The need to kill, so desperate–must prolong?

Quick, peel away! Go after him I would,

To speak with sword or mouth or morbid song.

I–Can forgiveness shed its mournful light,

Upon my soul, relinquish judgment tight?


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