Friday, 18 February 2011

The Awakening

The Awakening

Thunder raged across the land,
the lightening bolts did smite,
and smashed into the ferrous sand,
as savage winds took flight.

When out that blackened tempests draft,
a wailing cry was heard,
the ghoulish screams of airs that laughed,
pricked ears that sleep'd, stirred.

And rose that light on wings of fire,
into a storm lashed fury,
across the tempests awesome might,
two wings divine sped purely.

Beyond the formless ferments void,
beyond the shattered breakers,
beyond the thunder gods annoyed,
beyond the foul winds makers.

A maiden lashed on broken mast,
was bound, and trussed, and captured,
so through the flashing night made fast,
he tore to her enraptured.

But lo, he saw as she did scream,
between the lightnings flashings,
a giant serpent foul and mean,
was wrapped around those lashings.

The hissing seething serpent,
with its teeth tipped foul with venom,
did wind itself around her brace,
and spit a fiery plenum.

The screaming gale, the crashing surf,
the mighty thunderous heaven,
did set within his ears to burst,
her plaintiff screams to deafen.

Retreating to the iron sands,
to where the bolts had sundered,
he forged a mighty sword with hands,
no titan ever plundered.

And quick, he quenched the flaming steel,
into the seething ocean,
and shot upon white horse and gale,
with fix'd hearts devotion.

Then down the tumult he did speed,
to smite the foul grim viper,
and with one puissant savage cleave,
was cast upon the striker.

They raged, into that formless void,
the sky was born with thunder,
till sword and serpent were alloyed,
he brought that dragon under.

It smashed into the foaming wild,
and hissed at them a while,
then down it sank into the deep,
full wounded, leeched the bile.

Two wings alighted on the mast,
and cut the tethers surely,
then into those great arms at last,
she swooned; twas held securely.

At once the sea did find its calm,
and rolled away the clouds,
the sunlit shores blessed bosomed balm,
did offer them its shrouds.

They rest there still, in golden light,
in mirth, and sweet fine art,
and soon forgot dark torments night,
embrace'd, soul and heart.

© Richard Michael Parker 2011

1 comment:

RMP said...

' The great red dragon and the woman clothed with the sun' - by William Blake