Beguile

Poetry & Prose May 3, 2017

Light through the spire where the son remains
Begotten to throne in an old western tone where the spark began

You said it was time for the ashes of mine to ignite again
In a hidden new low you set a staggering blow to a broken man

Every thought left for you to consider
left tragedy lurking for you and the sinner
to be free

You were a second hand thought destined to rot for the choice you made
You led your throng of those who didn’t belong to the first crusade

So we stood in the sand feeling elated
at the thought we could destroy what He had created
or to be

The princes of time left their water and wine to secure the same
With his foot on your throat Michael he wrote for the one who came

In this tragedy you saw
the romantics of your fall
and still you pray

Paint by Pieter Bruegel the Elder The Fall of the Rebel Angels

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