Guise

Ripping out roots, imprisoning the soil,
Breaking the back of the young and fertile earth,
A weapon taken, mortal power toil,
A timid replica, in dull holy shine's rebirth.

What other ways exist to lay down,
Or take up the arms of destiny's call?

A growl emerges from the deep, the first and the last,
Betrothed to fairy guardians, a ranger of faith,
Beckoning under the hill, his presence vast,
With elven fear dramatic, impassioned beneath his wraith.

Steel greaves touch not the soil, as they ride in fright,
Lost to the conquest of once unknown woods,
Their measured fate seized, by stars shining bright,
Chaotic lies hidden, by the necklace of the moon's hoods.

Halved desire claimed, by the ring of the sun,
Divine fiction tied, by the string of dawn's hold,
Angel mystery veiled, by the wind's hair spun,
Simplicity guards the story, peril of riches untold.

Blood and pride forgotten, in the heart's forge,
Scattered in the throne of the exiled king's reign,
Painted walls surround silent statues, a silent gorge,
Shards of glass blades, in an uncalloused hand's strain.

The air falls, a distance past the grove beneath the hill,
Straying into passing years, dreaming of troubles remembered,
Bind me to you, as a mortal lover's heirloom, still,
Take the gun and point it, to the temple of Solomon, dismembered.