F O R T I F I E D
High up that mountain
at cliff’s edge
was a castle
with towering walls
gone past clouds
gates thick as fog
a moat deep as dark
towers rising up
past starry skies
fortified barbicans and
a portcullis dropping
deep into earth.
It was impenetrable
by any.
One foggy dawn
long before light
came the attack
unexpected and swift
quiet as night
as seen through a rift
or a gentle crack
in the marble
above the grass green
wet and slippery
but short and spiky
as the tower tops.
The stronghold
thought impenetrable
lay crippled.
The clouds turn orange
reflecting the fires beneath
smoke slowly rising from all towers
defenses overcome.
In the great hall
curtains burn
windows broken
chairs and tables
tossed and upturned
the throne… a lying waste
deep sorrow hangs in the air
man’s defense has fallen.
The blind spot
- the backdoor and the traitor.
Trusting in the life-less
to protect the life-ful
brought destruction
sorrow and death.
Fer, indeed
the lifeless
can protect man
as much as a babe can itself
yet, man still, to it, turns
hoping against all odds
fer lasting comfort
safety and rest.
- ‘tis a great loss!
Down in a valley
surrounded by highs
alone and isolated
is a house
tiny and unprotected
by towers, gates or bridges
and naught but trees and
a slow-flowing stream
fer its neighbors.
A white picket fence
and a dingy door
is its only front.
It could be overcome
by all.
Deep in the night
when all slumbered
evil drew nigh
volleying the best
of its attacks
but all to no avail
fer, there was a protector
keeping watch over His own
while they slumbered
unawares of the danger without
lurking in frenzy
yet, unable.
- He never ever sleeps
neither slumbers.
~ Yohan
~ March 3, 2014 ~ 12 : 28 am
