Friday, February 04, 2005
And arrow of decision,
With target ever beckoning
The arrow's cruel precision.
I strike the bell of time and space
Through all the ages tolling,
As o'er this place with wispy grace
The faery clouds are rolling.
I say the charm that charms all charms,
Call forth the dragon's breathing:
The spell of sleep that harm disarms,
Enchanted sight bequeathing.
The days are dark from mount to strand,
The ranks of knights are thinning;
The king and land together stand
As was from time beginning.
As will the new, the old ways die
And dreams remain unwritten,
And by and by, both hip and thigh,
Unrighteous men are smitten.
The bow of reckoning is drawn,
The bell of time is pealing;
All knights are pawns as sure as dawn
With souls in need of healing.
The knight will fail who seeks his Grail
Devoid of heart's perfection;
The quest unveils in each detail
A spirit's base abjection.
But on the stones and in our bones
This truth in bold inscription:
"He ne'er disowns him who atones
And follows His prescription."
© 2005 Jeffrey Hull