every day i pass by this penny on the ground. frozen in time, the penny has softened into the broken parking lot. it begs for someone to pick it up, run a thumb over the ***** copper, and heed its message from the heavens.
the penny stares up at me every time i walk over it like a lone giant marching through the foothills to home. every day, it wonders why i always let it capture my eye like rose petals in rain but never bother picking it up.
i know it's the angels. but why am i so scared of what they might say?
I tried to reach the moon It escaped me Surrounded by people feeling lonely The nature of my kind kind of funny I tried to count the stars They’re elusive The moment that I doubt I keep drowning The nature of the world Still astounds me
A Space Man asked me What I was doing Searching for meaning Where you find nothing. He said, "child why are you Grasping for stars When they’re clearly running from you?"
I tried to reach the moon It escaped me I was surrounded by strangers Who all knew me And I think I lost my keys last night When I got home I was locked out So I sat on my steps calling for the Space Man But, I don’t know why I’m chasing the wind When it’s clearly running from me!
They are rushing furiously across a danger path. Trying to escape all foes in stark contrast. Light brightly shining their path. Escaping giant demons of wrath.
The day of reckoning is over soon. Precious are the lives of a chosen few. Above and beyond the swarm cries too. Just the fleetest will do.
As they were born above the ground. Crawling toward an evil and also hopeful sound. Across the ground these demons pound. The fault of some they found.
Driving their fleeting heart even more. Kindly they beg the evil and demons who ignore. High in the clouds the evil soar. While the hopeful eyes of many are ready to look toward.
As the demons pass. Steep trouble will find the many at last. High above the evil gathers it’s strength fast. Diving from the sky with speed blast.
Some are plucked from the ground by the evil. It is feast or famine not to cause an upheaval. Soon few of the many will be safe in their home that is primeval. What these fleeting few have been through is unbelievable.
This is where the ettin walks, two-headed, three stories tall. I’ve never heard the ettin talk, save for his rancorous call. Here, he lumbers, like an oaf, towing up into the sky, watching down upon the grove, with his four golden eyes. This giant is a savage beast with a ram strapped to his back. He is almost never at peace except when he takes a nap. The ettin lives up in the hills, and walks between the trees, guarding the grove from unwanted foes and attacking those he sees. The ettin carries an enormous club, made from a withered old tree root. He wears little ragged clothes and stumbles around barefoot.
This poem is inspired by the ettins from World of Warcraft