A Man, A King

What is a man but

Flesh and bone gave breath;

Such mortal beast

To buck beneath

The reins of my imagination.

Cry out for me, ye bloodied hands

I am the stones arise on emerald hills

My flesh the graven gold

Of toiling back and grinding axe.

My blood be thee and thine

All rivers flow to mine

Call me God, for all I see is all I am

A fire in the earth

Tempered in the sea of sable madness

Yet to swim, yet to circumnavigate

My ambition, this thing of steel

No land might ever satisfy

The hunger of my soul.

All songs, they sing for me

Each note a dirge unto my memory.

Each breath, praise, for it is mine divine

Providence, they say, a god-in-man

Whoso could ever hope to say

I could not turn the tides.

I am the horse that rides,

I am the bolt that flies,

I am the child that cries,

He whom only fate defies.

Behold my majesty and yet despair

Of he who masters everyone

And nothing, and no one, still.

For the latest Monday Poetry Potluck!

Just let go

“Just let go,”

I heard the dead man say–

all fire and steel,

this medieval madness in my veins.

Touch the Fire,

watch it burn–

my flourish of steel

can ward the Dragons,

but this feathered sword is nothing to the light.

I could write you off,

but never Time–

ensconced in the moment

I wear it like a shield

to burn the fires out around me.

Still through the swirling smoke–

the fires die,

but the scorches linger.

The black marks on my skin

refuse to go–

I Breathe but I cannot Release

and I am Bound

Forever by the Deed.