Finis Coronat Opus

A force of darkness camps before The city praised in songs of lore, And threatens down her walls to bring, And crown their gen’ral cruel, their king. Hosts on hosts take up their arms, To hunt the just and do them harm; For darkness treasures nothing fair, Except as trophies in its lair. Yet, as the fallen hordes approach In dimmest shadow as a cloak, O’er the field of battle shines A gleaming ray of brightest light. Though the evil army great In numbers vast would seal the fate Of city fair, yet crumble they Before the clearest light of day. The darkest night, though black and foul, Is pierced by starlight; therefore, how Could evil souls prevail upon The people who abide in sun?

Stand fast, you brave men; all around The world in flames is drowned, And those of steadfast heart and soul Must firm in conscience hold. Bow not to callous ruler’s thrall, Nor ‘neath his yoke be called; But rather, hold your heads up high, Be not afraid to die. For what is life, when broken heart Once fair, is slain with dart Of cowardice and weakness? No. Into the fray, we go. Stand fast, you brave men; victory Within our grasp can be, Though years far off, through battles grim, We see its light, less dim.

A candle flickers in the night, Near’ snuffed is that one point of light Amid the fog of deepest gloom That foretells soon a woeful doom. For lonely flame is memory Of time forgot, and history Of olden knights and noble realms, Of golden crowns and dragon helms. Mighty were the deeds of old, The battles ‘gainst the worst of foes; Ancient creatures, legends great, Lost, to an irreparable fate. Let not the candle be snuffed out, Nor mighty deeds be cast in doubt; But let the flame be kindled new With every morning’s fallen dew.

What to write, When words don’t come; Instead, they drift on noonday sun Aloft, to join the clouds? What to write, When thoughts refuse To stay a moment still, and choose Instead, to hide away? What to write, When tired eyes Gaze out on summer’s waning days, And yet, see nothing clear? What to write? But see, here rests A list of subjects needing best A pen to give them voice!

Roaring cataract, like thunder, Rushing over cliffs there yonder, Crashing like the cymbals in a mythic symphony unseen, Down on rocks beneath the surface,  Where observe the people, speechless, As the waters powerful descend from heights that touch the sky. Zeus’ thunder hardly touches now  The labors of Poseidon, As the rivers down he pours upon the shoals of granite; lo Gods of sea and firmament do meet upon this cataract As it roars, forevermore. Photo: Niagara Falls, Ontario, Canada

Basking in the patch of sun Beneath the window pane, Laid at ease, a care for none,  This warm and balmy day; On the well-worn rug there lies A dozing tabby cat, Unaware that sunny sky’s Beyond a window, latched. But cares the cat for nothing; see, Her whiskers twitch at length, And how her paws start suddenly At rabbits in her dreams? So hours pass, and lazily The cat begins to stir As sunlight through the window gleams Upon her tabby fur.

Slumber heavy shuts my eyes, Summoning the dark That deepest sleep will soon provide To rest the mind and heart. Yet darkness ‘round my mind does not  Very long embrace; For soon descends from land of Nod A pixie's curious face. Waft I up on waves of mist, Lifted by the fae Amid the stars and pixie dust, I drift, in dreams, away. Such vivid lands and creatures fair I visit in those dreams, In kingdoms vast, in goblins’ lair, In forests evergreen. And when the night is close to dawn, I to my pillow drift On pixie dust and robin’s song, Back from my slumber’s gift.