Within the fires are the spirits
The gong upon our anvil
As such arms can only be made in Heaven.
Of various persons each known to his part
Distinct are the Poet and the Dreamer
And so I was Gods ape,
Piety so chaste
I hold it half a sin
Entering the cold broken world
Thus Adam lamented to himself aloud.
"No coward soul is mine
What will come at last too soon
For honour bit-wize travels
Unwinking on this fair ship 'Life'".
But there was resistance involved
The swift blazing flag of regiment
As bare as a birds tail
To make a clean breast
The iron entered my soul.
I pray you
The earthly bribble-brabble
A veil for the glory of Angels
Lest evil tidings to utter
To turn and face them
And see ones self
Not to be lost but by the makers hand.
ELEETE J MUIR
Jun 14, 2015
Jun 14, 2015 at 12:12 AM UTC
Within the fires are the spirits
The gong upon our anvil
As such arms can only be made in Heaven.
Of various persons each known to his part
Distinct are the Poet and the Dreamer
And so I was Gods ape,
Piety so chaste
I hold it half a sin
Entering the cold broken world
Thus Adam lamented to himself aloud.
"No coward soul is mine
What will come at last too soon
For honour bit-wize travels
Unwinking on this fair ship 'Life'".
But there was resistance involved
The swift blazing flag of regiment
As bare as a birds tail
To make a clean breast
The iron entered my soul.
I pray you
The earthly bribble-brabble
A veil for the glory of Angels
Lest evil tidings to utter
To turn and face them
And see ones self
Not to be lost but by the makers hand.
ELEETE J MUIR
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