A WAR TALE
Descends the ominous clouds and spilling rains
over the dead filled land like blood
flood the unperturbed corbeaus over the caucuses,
and screams are heard,
as if carried by the howling winds:
ancestors and mothers alike joining in a stinging harmony,
as if to awaken the seemingly sleeping Gods,
to cast their spirit over the steeping land;
the now precarious land of Trinidad,
like a healing balm,
like a raging peace
ready to do battle:
the unyielding elements:
nefarious and ominous alike .
Now demons gather almost illusive forces
like a dark grand apparition,
a spectre like illusion,
spurred and angered by the seeping harmonies
and the secret prayers of faithful bosoms.
Spurred and angered!
Growling and feet stamping, timing
and lightning lighting
flashing their dark faces
evil in the dire valleys prepares for battle,
as if they could sense
the waking slumber of the Gods
devoid of fear,
decrepit in and of mind
they march on,
toward the once holy Trinity hill,
where they know angels first descends.
They march on!
commanded by dark intent and evil will.
to reflect the ominous omen of the skies.
But behold! the skies now burst
as if to shower their prediction
and heaven's army, comes
floating through like silver shadowed saviours;
some on flying horses,
others winged chimeras and golden arrows
disguised as harps.
Their glowing halos and auras
provide a light to dark sky,
blinds demons' wretched eye
like Sun to a vampire,
and the demons breathe fire
from a heart of ice,
and they fire deadly arrows piercing
and guns and magical forces fiercing
from the palms of their hands,
unceasing and unleashing,
yet still Heaven's army descends
some seemingly injured
by the unexpected strength evil sends:
Evil sends Good a strong message.
Yet Good perseveres reaches land shielding
with halos gleaming and brigthened auras
like magical forcefields
their golden arrows
piercing five for the price of one,
sends the demons scanting , scattering
signs of fear now emerge,
illusions of imperviousity purged
like the dark and tenebrous clouds,
abates and dissipates, negates
and glimpses of the gleaming Sun
sends its streak evil undone
to support heaven's soldiers
ever burns demons' skin
screams are heard within
as victory for Good is surely nigh.
Copyright by Mark Anthony St. Rose. All rights reserved.