Monday, July 21, 2014
Sonnet to the: Deathless Trumpets
Sonnet to the:
I have heard mighty death drums from the past,
There’s a death march in oblivion,
—it has the scent of a blood-splash, in the run;
I can hear the warning of a death forecast.
How true, My Lady, your words thou hast!
Behold! The magic in these chosen ones:
“He brings down the mighty from the high suns,
And exalts those of low degree, the last.”
Demonic armies of the years that were,
Are now the armies of immortals that stir!
As the world conspires, probing by night light,
Which men whom seek power, careless what looms.
A tireless task in Hade’s incubus night:
Yet, whatever brings earth’s doom, will do!
No: 4478 (7-19-2014)